GO  TO  IT 


By  tie 
aumor  cf 

JOHN  HENRY 


LIBRARY 


! 


CALIFORNIA 
SAN  CM  EGO       i 


GO  TO  IT! 


"  BOOZEY  IS    SO   HAPPY    WIF   HIS   IZZY-WIZZY." 

Frontispiece.    Page  52. 


GO    TO    IT 


BY  HUGH  McHUGH 

(George  V.  Hobart) 

AUTHOR  OF 

"JOHN  HENRY."  "DOWN  THE  LINE  WITH  JOHN  HENRY, 

"IT'S  UP  TO  YOU,"  "BACK  TO  THE  WOODS." 

"OUT  FOR  THE  COIN."  "I  NEED  THE  MONEY," 

"I'M  FROM  MISSOURI,"  "YOU  CAN  SEARCH  ME." 

"GET  NEXT!"  "SKIDDOO,"  "BEAT  IT,"  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 
GORDON  H.  GRANT 


NEW   YORK 

G.  W.  DILLINGHAM  CO. 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1908,  by 
G.  W.  DILLINGHAM  COMPANY 


Issued,  March,  1908 

All  rights  strictly  reserved  and  any  infringement »/ 
copyright  wtll  be  dealt  with  according  to  law. 


Co  to  It 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

JOHN  HENRY  ON  THE  COUNTRY  HOTEL  9 

JOHN  HENRY  ON  BUTTERMILK  ....  31 

JOHN  HENRY  ON  REINCARNATION       .     .  37 

JOHN  HENRY  ON  THE  DRUMMERS  HE  MET  45 

JOHN  HENRY  ON  SANSCRIT  STORIES  .     .  67 

JOHN  HENRY  ON  THE  LAW  MAKERS      .  85 

JOHN  HENRY  ON  RAPID  TRANSIT       .     .  100 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


MM 

"Boozey  is  so  happy  wif  his  izzy-wizzy" 

frontispiece      52 

"No,    I'm   the   skeleton  man  with   a 

circus" 26 

"You  must  leave  the  battlefield — it  is 

time  to  close  up  for  the  night"    .     .      43 

The  stranger    pulled    forth   from    the 

depths  of  his  inside  pocket  a  vial    .      76 

Si  leaned  over  and  whispered  something 

to  Seth 99 

A  germ  rubbing  against  my  ankle  like 

a  kitten 103 


TO 

The  Associated  Members  of  the  Anvil  Chorus 
in  executive  session  convened  at  Hammer 
Hall,  Greetings !  This  is  Number  Twelve 
of  the  Series,  and  the  Little  Brothers  of  the 
Boost,  working  against  you,  have  a  sale  of 
over  700,000  books  to  their  credit. 
Go  to  It! 

G.  V.  H. 


GO  TO  IT! 

CHAPTER  I 

JOHN    HENRY  ON  THE   COUNTRY 
HOTEL. 

BUFFALO,  N.  Y.    Sunday. 

DEAR  BUNCH:     I'm  doing  a 
hot-foot  over  the   State   for 
the  Insurance  Company  I've 
hooked  up  with,  and  I'm  having  the 
time  of  my  life — believe  me  not! 

Say!  aren't  some  of  these  Reub 
beaneries  the  woozy  limit! 

I  blew  in  to  the  Commercial 
House  at  Spoonsbury  day  before  yes- 
terday, and  His  Nobs,  the  Hotel 
Clerk,  certainly  staked  me  to  a  fine 
bundle  of  home-made  laughs. 


IO  GO   TO   IT! 

Did  you  ever  make  Spoonsbury, 
Bunch? 

Oh !  it's  on  the  map,  all  right. 

Spoonsbury  is  a  railroad  Junction 
where  careless  people  change  cars  and 
wait  for  the  other  train. 

I  fell  for  this  "  change  cars  "  gag 
and  went  over  to  the  Commercial 
House  to  kill  time. 

I  was  deep  in  conversation  with 
Steve  Splevin,  the  hotel  clerk,  when 
an  Old  Guy  with  Persian  rug  trim- 
mings on  the  end  of  his  chin 
squeezed  up  and  began  to  let  a  peep 
out  of  him  about  the  pie  he  had  eaten 
for  dinner. 

"  Calm  yourself !  "  said  Smiling 
Steve,  "  and  tell  me  where  it  bit  you." 

Steve  has  been  throwing  keys  at 
the  wall  for  some  time,  and  he 
knows  how  to  burn  the  beefers. 


ON   THE  COUNTRY    HOTEL          II 

"  Bit  me !  bit  me !  "  snarled  the  Old 
Guy  with  the  tapestry  chin-piece; 
"  nothing  of  the  kind,  sir !  I  want 
you  to  know,  sir,  that  your  pie  isn't 
fit  to  eat,  sir !  " 

"  Cut  it  out !  "  suggested  Steve. 

"  Cut  it  out,  sir !  how  can  I  cut 
it  out  when  I've  eaten  it,  sir?  It's 
an  outrage,  and  I  shall  leave  this 
hotel  to-morrow,"  said  Omar  Kha- 
yaam. 

"With  the  exception  of  $31.72, 
balance  due,  that  will  be  about  all 
from  you,"  said  Steve. 

"  I'll  see  the  proprietor,"  said  the 
Old  Guy,  moving  away  with  a  face 
on  him  like  four  dollars  in  bad 
money. 

"  We  get  it  good  and  plenty  every 
day,"  said  Steve,  and  just  then  some- 
thing about  six  foot  tall,  wearing  a 


12  GO  TO   IT! 

slouch-hat  and  a  gilt  mustache  fell 
against  the  counter,  grabbed  the  reg- 
ister and  buried  a  stub  pen  in  its 
pages. 

After  looking  over  the  result,  I  de- 
cided the  stranger's  first  name  must 
be  Skate,  because  it  looked  like  one 
on  the  register. 

"Bath?"  queried  Steve. 

"  Only  during  a  hot  wave,"  said 
Skate. 

Steve  went  to  the  ropes,  but  he 
came  up  smiling,  as  usual. 

"  American  or  European  ?  "  asked 
Steve. 

"Neither,"  said  Skate.  "Don't 
you  see  I'm  from  Jersey  City." 

"  Going  to  be  with  us  long  ?  "  in- 
quired Steve. 

"  Say,  Bub !  you're  hellanall  on 
asking  questions,  now  ain't  you?" 


ON   THE  COUNTRY   HOTEL         13 

answered  Skate;  "you  just  push  me 
into  a  stall  and  lock  the  gate — I'm 
tired." 

"  Front !  show  this  gentleman  to 
49 ! "  said  Steve,  side-stepping  to 
avoid  punishment. 

Then  Sweet  William,  the  Boy 
Drummer,  hopped  into  the  ring  for 
the  next  round. 

Willie  peddles  pickles  for  the  fun 
he  gets  out  of  it. 

It  is  Willie's  joy  and  delight  to  get 
a  ginger-ale  bun  on  and  recite 
"  'Ostler  Joe." 

When  trained  down  to  95  flat, 
Willie  can  get  up  and  beat  the  clap- 
per off  "  Curfew  Shall  Not  Ring  To- 
night." 

When  Willie  gets  a  strangle-hold 
on  "  Sheridan's  Ride  "  you  can  hear 
horses  galloping  outside. 


14  GO  TO  IT! 

It's  the  rest  of  the  community  get- 
ting out  of  harm's  way. 

"  Any  mail  ?  "  inquired  Willie. 

All  the  mail  that  Willie  ever  gets 
is  a  postal  card  from  the  pickle-fac- 
tory every  two  weeks  asking  him  if 
the  people  along  his  route  have  all 
lost  their  appetites. 

"  No  literature  for  you,"  Steve  an- 
swered. 

"  Strange,"  said  Willie,  "  my  lady 
friends  are  very  remiss,  aren't 
they?" 

"  Yes ;  it  looks  like  they  were  out 
to  drop  you  behind  the  piano,"  said 
Steve. 

Willie  tore  off  a  short  rabbit 
laugh,  and  then  inquired  what  time 
the  next  train  left  for  New  York. 

The  pickle- factory  expects  Willie 
to  make  Pocomoke  City,  Squashtown 


ON  THE  COUNTRY   HOTEL         1 5 

Junction  and  Nubbinsville  before  next 
Sunday,  so  he  tossed  the  train  gag  out 
just  to  show  Steve  that  he  knows 
there's  a  place  called  New  York. 

"At  7:45  over  the  D.  L.  &  Q.," 
said  Steve. 

"What's  the  next?"  inquired 
Willie. 

"At  8:10  over  the  H.  B.  &  N.," 
Steve  answered. 

"Which  gets  there  first?"  Willie 
asked. 

"  The  engineer,"  sighed  Steve. 

"  Oh,  you  droll  chap,"  said  the 
pickle-pusher ;  "  give  me  some  tooth- 
picks." 

Then  Sweet  William  went  over  to 
the  big  window,  burrowed  into  a 
chair,  stuck  his  feet  up  on  the  brass 
rail,  ate  toothpicks,  and  thought  he 
was  IT. 


16  GO  TO  IT! 

When  I  got  back  to  Steve  he  was 
dealing  out  the  cards  to  a  lady  from 
Reading,  Pa. 

Her  husband  had  been  up  in  the 
air  with  a  bum  automobile,  and  when 
he  came  down  he  was  several  sections 
shy. 

They  found  a  monkey-wrench  im- 
bedded in  his  left  shoulder  which  he 
couldn't  remember  using  when  he 
tried  to  fix  the  machine. 

She  was  traveling  for  his  health. 

"  My  room  is  immediately  over  the 
kitchen,"  she  informed  Steve. 

"  The  cook  hasn't  made  a  kick  up 
to  now,"  Steve  went  back  at  her. 

"  But  they've  been  frying  onions 
ever  since  we  took  the  room  yester- 
day afternoon,"  she  snapped. 

"Yes,  madam,"  chortled  Smiling 
Steve,  "  this  is  a  local  option  town, 


ON  THE  COUNTRY   HOTEL         17 

and  the  onion  is  the  only  pickle  that's 
allowed  to  appear  in  public." 

She  started  a  get-back,  but  her  in- 
dignation choked  her  so  she  gave 
Steve  the  Society  sting  with  both 
eyes  and  flounced  out. 

Steve  bit  the  end  off  a  pen-holder 
and  said  the  rest  internally. 

Just  then  a  couple  of  troupers 
trailed  in. 

They  were  with  the  "  Bandit's 
Bride  Co.,"  and  the  way  had  been 
long  and  weary. 

"What  have  you  got — double?" 
asked  the  villain  of  the  piece. 

"Two  dollars  and  up!"  said 
Steve. 

"Nothing  better?"  inquired  Low 
Comedy — he  was  making  a  crack,  but 
nobody  caught  him. 


i8  GO  TO  IT! 

"Four  dollars,  with  bath,"  Steve 
suggested. 

"Board?"  asked  the  villain. 

"  Nothing  but  the  sleeps  and  a 
fresh  cake  of  soap,"  said  Steve. 

"  Ring  down !  "  Low  Comedy  put 
in.  "  Why,  we  lived  a  whole  week 
in  Pittsburg  for  less  than  that." 

"  You  can  turn  the  same  trick  here 
if  you  carry  your  own  coke  and  sleep 
in  the  Park,"  said  Steve. 

"  What's  the  name  of  this  mint  ?  " 
asked  the  villain. 

Steve  told  him. 

"  To  the  tow-path !  "  said  Barrett 
Macready;  "we're  outside  the  life- 
lines. We  thought  it  was  the  Liver- 
wurst  Hotel,  where  they  throw  things 
at  your  appetite  for  $i  a  day,  double. 
To  the  left,  wheel!  Forward, 
march ! " 


ON  THE  COUNTRY   HOTEL         IQ 

I  followed  those  two  troupers  out 
to  the  dinky  barroom,  because  the 
moment  I  saw  them  I  knew  it  was  a 
cinch  they'd  pull  some  wheezes  that 
would  hand  me  a  couple  of  guffs. 

"  The  woods  for  ours !  isn't  this  a 
bird  of  a  place  for  a  show  to  get 
stranded?"  groaned  the  Low  Comic, 
as  he  gave  the  Reub  bartender  the 
high  sign,  and  the  latter  pushed  for- 
ward two  glasses  and  a  black  bottle. 

"  It  wouldn't  have  been  so  bad  if 
the  show  had  gone  to  pieces  in  some 
burg  where  the  people  have  insomnia 
in  the  daytime,"  the  Juvenile  growled. 
"  But  here,  Mike,  the  men  go  to  work 
in  their  pajamas,  and  the  town  hasn't 
any  street-cars  because  the  conduc- 
tor's bell  sounds  too  much  like  an 
alarm-clock,  and  it  might  wake  the 
Mayor." 


2O  GO  TO   IT! 

"I  tell  you,  Mike,"  the  Juvenile 
went  on,  "  I'm  too  delicate  for  this 
one-night  stand  gag.  I'm  going  to 
New  York  and  build  a  theater." 

"  What  with?  "  sneered  Low  Com- 
edy. 

"  With  a  reporter  I  know  on  one 
of  the  papers,"  the  Juvenile  chuckled. 
"  Say,  what  was  the  name  of  that 
town  we  played  night  before  last?" 

"Murphy's  Landing,  wasn't  it?" 
Mike  answered. 

"  I  guess  that's  right,  because 
Murphy  landed  on  me  good  and 
hard,"  the  Juvenile  said.  "  Remem- 
ber those  nice  white  door-knobs  we 
ate  for  breakfast  next  morning?  The 
waitress  said  they  were  hot  biscuits, 
but  I  had  to  eat  mine  with  a  nut- 
cracker. I've  got  it  in  my  pantry  yet, 
and  every  time  I  walk  around  the 


ON  THE  COUNTRY   HOTEL         21 

knob  turns,  and  I  can  hear  a  door 
open  somewhere." 

Mike's  double  chin  showed  signs  of 
agitation. 

"  Stranded,  here  in  this  jay  town!  " 
The  Juvenile  grabbed  the  black  bot- 
tle and  upset  it  again.  "  Say,  Mike, 
what  we  need  is  a  guardian.  And 
while  we're  at  it  let's  pick  out  one 
with  money  so  we  can  wire  him  for  a 
little  price  to  help  us  out  on  occa- 
sions like  this.  The  next  manager 
that  wins  me  away  from  the  stock- 
yards will  have  to  wear  a  gold-plated 
overcoat,  and  stand  in  the  wings 
every  night  where  he  can  throw  ten- 
dollar  bills  at  me  when  I  make  my 
exit.  No  more  slob  impressarios  for 
mine,  with  nothing  in  their  inside 
pockets  but  a  date-book  and  a  hearty 
appetite." 


22  GO  TO   IT! 

"  Same  here !  "  Low  Comedy 
nodded.  "  The  next  manager  that 
picks  me  out  will  have  to  drag  me 
down  to  his  bank  and  let  me  pick  his 
coupons  off  the  shelf  before  I'll 
sign." 

"  Bumped,  good  and  hard,  here  in 
the  tall  grass,"  the  Juvenile  com- 
plained again,  "  and  not  a  cookie  in 
the  lunch-basket.  Say!  it  has  me 
winging,  all  right,  and  that's  no  idle 
hoot!  This  is  the  third  troupe  that 
blew  out  its  mainspring  for  us  this 
season,  and  I'm  beginning  to  believe 
we  ought  to  get  vaccinated.  How 
am  I  going  to  do  Hamlet  in  New 
York  this  winter,  I'd  like  to  know? 
Eight  weeks  since  we  left  Chicago, 
three  shows  to  the  bad,  and  still  a 
thousand  miles  from  the  Great  White 
Way.  Say,  Mike,  at  this  rate  it'll  take 


ON  THE  COUNTRY   HOTEL         23 

about  629  shows  to  get  us  to  Jersey 
City ;  are  you  hip  ?" 

Mike  laughed.  "  It's  the  old  story, 
my  boy;  we're  a  sad  bunch  of  plow- 
boys  on  this  old  farm  of  a  world 
when  we  haven't  a  little  mazuma  in 
the  vest  pocket.  I've  got  a  new  bit 
of  a  recitation  spiel  I  cooked  up  last 
night  when  I  couldn't  sleep.  It's 
called  "Knock  and  the  World 
Knocks  With  You,"  and  I'll  put  you 
jerry  to  it  right  now  before  it  gets 
cold!" 

"  Well,  I'm  from  Texas,  so  you'll 
have  to  steer  me,"  said  the  Juvenile. 

"  Pipe  the  everlasting  truth  con- 
tained herein,"  said  Mike,  whereupon 
he  proceeded  as  follows : 


24  GO  TO  IT! 

Knock,  and  the  world  knocks  with  you, 

Boost  and  you  boost  alone ! 
When  you  roast  good  and  loud 
You  will  find  that  the  crowd 

Has  a  hammer  as  big  as  your  own ! 

Buy,  and  the  gang  is  with  you; 

Renig,  and  the  game's  all  off, 
For  the  lad  with  the  thirst 
Will  see  you  first 

If  you  don't  proceed  to  cough ! 

Be  rich  and  the  push  will  praise  you, 
Be  poor  and  they'll  pass  the  ice, 

You're  a  warm  young  guy 

When  you  start  to  buy — 
You're  a  slob  when  you  lose  the  price! 

i 
Be  flush  and  your  friends  are  many, 

Go  broke  and  they'll  say  Ta,  ta! 
While  your  bank  account  burns 
You  will  get  returns, 

When  it's  out  you  will  get  the  Ha ! 

Be  gay  and  the  mob  will  cheer  you, 
They'll    shout    while    your    wealth   en- 
dures ; 


ON   THE  COUNTRY   HOTEL         25 

Show  a  tearful  lamp 

And  you'll  see  them  tramp — 

And  it's  back  to  the  woods  for  yours  f 

There's  always  a  bunch  to  boost  you 
While  at  your  money  they  glance; 

But  you'll  find  them  all  gone 

On  that  cold  gray  dawn 
When  the  fringe  arrives  on  your  pants ! 

"  You've  got  the  game  of  life  sized 
to  a  show-down,"  was  the  Juvenile's 
comment. 

At  this  point  Jabe,  the  Reub  bar- 
tender, pointed  a  freckled  finger  at 
Mike  and  butted  in  with :  "  Say,  you 
be  the  fat  cuss  that  cut  up  with  that 
thar  troupe  at  the  Op'ry  House  last 
night,  been't  ye  ?  " 


26  GO  TO  IT! 

"  No,  I'm  the  skeleton  man  with  a 
circus,"  Mike  answered,  and  the  bar- 
tender roared  with  delight. 

:<  You  don't  look  as  how  you  took 
much  exercise,"  snickered  Jabe. 

"  But  I  do  take  exercise — oh,  me 
for  that  exercise  thing,  good  and 
strong !  "  protested  Mike. 

11  What  kind  of  exercise  do  you 
take  ?  "  Jabe  inquired. 

"  Well,"  Mike  answered,  "  every 
morning  I  swing  the  clubs  for  fifteen 
minutes,  then  the  dumb-bells  for  ten 
minutes,  then  I  run  about  three  miles 
— and  then  I  get  up  and  eat  my 
breakfast." 

Jabe  guffawed  loudly  over  this  bit 
of  facetiousness. 

"I  was  at  the  Op'ry  House  last 
night,"  Jabe  informed  them,  "  and 
I  'most  laughed  myself  sick  to  the 


'NO,   I'M   THE   SKELETON  MAN   WITH   A  CIRCUS." 


Page  26. 


ON   THE  COUNTRY   HOTEL         2J 

stomach  at  this  yer  fat  cuss  takin'  off 
that  Dutch  policeman — ha,  ha,  ha, 
ha ! "  Jabe  looked  at  the  Juvenile. 
"  You  was  putty  good,  too,"  he  ad- 
mitted, "  takin'  off  that  newspaper  re- 
porter and  rescuin'  the  girl  from  the 
burnin'  structyure,  but  you  didn't  do 
no  funny  fall  and  bust  your  gallusses 
like  this  yer  fat  cuss — ha,  ha,  ha, 
ha!" 

"  Get  him  to  unhook  the  laugh ; 
he's  a  good  steady  listener,"  whis- 
pered the  Juvenile,  and  Mike  started 
in. 

"  Fine  town,  this,"  Mike  began. 
"  All  the  modern  improvements,  eh  ? 
Cows  wear  nickle-plated  bells,  streets 
paved  with  grass,  and  the  river  has 
running  water." 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha !  "  Jabe  roared. 

"  Reminds  me  of  a  place  we  struck 


28  GO  TO  IT! 

out  in  Missouri  last  winter,"  Mike 
went  on.  "  Same  style  of  public 
architecture,  especially  the  town 
pump.  But  the  hotel  there  was  the 
hit  with  us.  It  was  called  the  Dec- 
laration of  Independence,  because  the 
proprietor  had  married  an  English 
woman,  and  wanted  to  be  revenged. 
At  supper  time  I  ordered  a  steak,  and 
they  brought  me  a  leather  hinge  cov- 
ered with  gravy,  so  I  got  up  to  add 
an  amendment  to  the  Declaration  of 
Independence.  The  head  waiter  was 
an  ex-pugilist,  so  he  put  the  boots  to 
me,  and  covered  my  amendment  with 
bruises.  Then  he  made  me  eat  the 
leather  hinge,  and  for  two  weeks  I 
felt  like  a  garden  gate  and  I  used  to 
slam  every  time  the  wind  blew." 

Jabe's  laugh  shook  the  building. 

"  The  proprietor  of  that  hotel  was 


ON  THE  COUNTRY   HOTEL        29 

so  patriotic,"  Mike  continued,  "  that 
he  wouldn't  number  the  rooms  like 
any  ordinary  hotel.  Every  room  was 
named  in  honor  of  a  President  of  the 
United  States.  That  evening  there 
happened  to  be  a  rush  while  I  was 
standing  near  the  desk,  and  I  heard 
the  clerk  say :  '  Front,  show  these 
gentlemen  up  to  John  Quincy 
Adams,  and  tell  the  porter  to  take 
that  trunk  out  of  the  alcove  in 
Thomas  Jefferson.  Front,  go  and 
put  down  that  window  in  Rutherford 
B.  Hayes,  and,  here,  take  this  whisky 
up  to  Abraham  Lincoln.  Front, 
what's  all  that  racket  in  James  Bu- 
chanan? Here,  take  these  cigars  to 
U.  S.  Grant,  and  turn  off  the  gas  in 
Grover  Cleveland/  But  I  nearly 
fainted  when  he  said :  '  Front,  run 
a  sofa  into  James  A.  Gar  field,  and 


3O  GO  TO  IT! 

take  these  two  ladies  up  to  George 
Washington.'  " 

"Mortal  Caesar!  Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha !" 
roared  Jabe.  "  Daggone,  if  that  ain't 
funny,  you  fat  cuss !  " 

When  I  quit  them  Mike  had  worn 
finger-marks  on  the  side  of  the  black 
bottle,  and  Jabe  had  signed  a  verbal 
contract  to  go  on  the  stage  as  the 
Juvenile's  dresser. 

I'm  for  the  Reub  Hotel,  strong. 
Yours  as  always, 
J.  H. 


CHAPTER  II 

'JOHN    HENRY    ON    BUTTERMILK. 

ROCHESTER.     Monday. 

DEAR  BUNCH:     I'm   not  yet; 
hep   to   this    gag   of   hiking 
across   the    geography    from 
town  to  town,  like  a  hoptoad  in  a 
cabbage-patch. 

It  may  be  interesting  to  some,  peo- 
ple, but  it  gets  me  peeved. 

I  found  your  letter  waiting  for  me 
here. 

So  they've  steered  you  up  against  a 
new  cure  for  your  dyspepsia,  eh? — 
buttermilk ! 

And  a  great  idea,  Bunch,  believe 
me! 


32  GO  TO  IT! 

It  certainly  is  lucky  to  drink  but- 
termilk. 

Buttermilk  is  to  the  worn-out  sys- 
tem the  same  as  a  fat  office  is  to  a 
stout  politician. 

As  a  thirst-splasher  buttermilk  is 
the  one  best  bet,  but  don't  ever  tell 
any  one  in  Milwaukee  that  I  made 
such  a  statement. 

Drink  it,  Bunch,  every  time  you 
can,  because  buttermilk  comes  down 
to  us  from  the  remotest  ages  with 
splendid  recommendations. 

Every  great  man  in  history  was  a 
buttermilk-drinker,  Bunch. 

Every  great  man  who  is  now 
spending  his  time  trying  to  get  into 
history  is  a  buttermilk-drinker, 
Bunch. 

Read  between  the  lines  in  your 
history  of  ancient  Rome,  and  you  will 


ON   BUTTERMILK  33 

see  how  buttermilk  would  have  saved 
the  life  of  Julius  Csesar  if  he  hadn't 
had  such  a  weakness  for  hard  cider. 

"  Where  are  you  going?  "  inquired 
Calathumpia,  the  wife  of  Julius 
Caesar,  as  he  fastened  the  gold  safety 
pin  in  his  toga  and  reached  for  his 
umbrella. 

"  I  am  going  down  to  Rudolph 
March's  cafe  in  the  Forum,"  an- 
swered Julius;  "you  don't  need  to 
wait  hmch  for  me,  Gallic." 

"  But,  Julius,"  whispered  Cala- 
thumpia ;  "  why  do  you  spend  so  much 
time  at  March's  cafe  in  the  Forum? 
It  isn't  a  good  place  for  you  to  go, 
my  dear.  Besides,  there  is  always  a 
bunch  of  loafers  hanging  around  that 
joint.  Why  don't  you  sit  here  at 
home  with  me  in  the  cool  Stadium 


34  GO  TO  IT! 

and  drink  buttermilk  with  your  lov- 
ing Calathumpia  ?  " 

"  Buttermilk !  "  sneered  Julius ; 
"  such  a  drink  is  only  for  mollycod- 
dles and  pink  fingers.  It  doesn't 
make  rich  blood  in  the  veins  like  the 
hard  cider  I  get  at  March's.  Avaunt 
and  raus  mittim !  " 

"  But  please  don't  go  to  that  cafe 
this  morning,"  Calathumpia  kept  on 
pleading.  "  Stay  at  home  just  this 
once  and  spread  some  of  this  deli- 
cious buttermilk  over  your  thirst." 

"  No  buttermilk  this  day  for  me," 
answered  Julius.  "  I  seek  a  vintage 
more  expensive,  and  which  tickles 
more  as  it  goes  down." 

"  The  tides  of  March,"  whispered 
his  wife;  "remember  the  tides  of 
March!" 

".Would   this  be  the  first  tide   I 


ON   BUTTERMILK  35 

ever  got  from  March  ?  "  Julius  whis- 
pered back. 

"  The  tides  of  March,  remember," 
was  her  only  answer ;  and  away  went 
Julius  to  the  cafe  in  the  Forum,  giv- 
ing an  imitation  of  Joe  Weber 
whistling  "  Girls !  Girls !  "  from  the 
Burlesque  of  "  The  Merry  Widow," 
which  was  then  running  at  the  Am- 
phitheatre. 

What  happened  in  the  Forum  when 
the  loafers  used  Julius  Caesar  for  a 
pin-cushion  everybody  remembers. 

And  when  Julius  dropped  on  the 
marble  slab  at  the  base  of  the  bar  he 
gasped  out :  "  Darn  the  luck !  why 
didn't  I  fall  for  the  buttermilk  which 
stingeth  not,  neither  does  it  help  peo- 
ple to  bite  the  dust?" 

You  won't  find  these  exact  words 
in  history,  Bunch,  because  Julius 


36  GO  TO  IT! 

gasped    them   in   Latin,    and    Latin 
hates  to  get  itself  translated. 

Many  other  times  in  the  ages  passed 
did  buttermilk  come  to  the  surface, 
so  you  may  take  it  from  me,  Bunch, 
that  it  is  lucky  to  drink  it. 

Yes,  Bunch,  and  I'll  give  you  my 
solemn  word  that  buttermilk  will  re- 
move freckles. 

Catch  the  freckle  just  before  going 
to  bed  and  wrap  the  buttermilk 
around  it 

Yours  for  health, 
J.  H. 


CHAPTER  III 

JOHN     HENRY     ON     REINCARNATION. 

ELMIRA.     Tuesday. 

DEAR  BUNCH :    Very  dull  to- 
day;  haven't  met   a   soul   I 
knew   except   the    proprietor 
of  the  hotel  here,  who  wanted  to  buy 
me  six  buckets  of  Ruinart  laughing- 
water — and  I'm  glued  to  the  wagon. 
Hard  luck,  eh! 

I  was  reading  a  book  on  the  train 
which  attempted  to  put  me  wise  to  the 
reincarnation  gag. 

Reincarnation  is  a  long,  loose- 
looking  word,  and  to  a  perfect 
stranger  it  might  sound  suspicious, 
but  its  bark  is  worse  than  its  bite. 


38  GO  TO  IT! 

The  idea  of  a  man  being  somebody 
else  in  a  previous  existence,  and  then 
switching  to  another  personality  in 
the  present,  is  interesting  to  think 
about,  to  say  the  least. 

I've  cooked  up  three  or  four 
studies  along  these  lines  which  may 
interest  you,  Bunch! 

Go  to  it,  my  boy! 

First  Study. 

David  kept  his  boot-heel  on  the 
neck  of  the  fallen  Goliath  and  laughed 
pleasantly. 

"  Are  you  all  in  ?  "  David  inquired, 
after  a  pause. 

"  I  refuse  to  speak  until  you  take 
your  spurs  out  of  my  face,"  replied 
the  giant. 

David  at  once  showed  his  obliging 
nature. 


ON  REINCARNATION  39 

"  We  shall  meet  again,"  Goliath 
replied  hoarsely. 

"Not  if  I  see  you  first!"  said 
David. 

"  I  will  take  good  care  that  you 
don't,"  chuckled  the  expiring  giant. 

"How?"  was  David's  interroga- 
tion. 

"  It  will  be  in  the  far,  far  future," 
said  the  giant.  "  You  will  then  be 
one  of  the  Common  People  walking 
in  the  streets." 

"And  you?"  David  asked. 

"  I  will  be  a  chauffeur  on  a  smoke- 
wagon,  and  what  I  will  do  to  you 
will  be  a  pitiful  shame,"  responded  the 
giant. 

Then  with  a  bitter  laugh  of  tri- 
umph Goliath  turned  over  and  pushed 
his  mortal  coil  off  the  shuffleboard. 


4O  GO  TO  IT! 

Second  Study. 

The  ghost  of  Julius  Caesar  looked 
threateningly  at  Brutus,  the  Stabbist. 

Brutus  sneered. 

"You,"  he  said;  "to  the  mines!" 

Not  one  of  Caesar's  muscles  quiv- 
ered. 

Brutus  used  a  short,  sharp  laugh. 

"  You,"  he  said,  "  on  your  way !  " 

Caesar  never  batted  an  eyelash. 

Brutus  pointed  to  the  rear. 

"  Go  away  back,"  he  said,  "  and 
use  your  laziness !  " 

Caesar  pulled  his  toga  up  over  his 
cold  shoulder. 

Brutus  laughed  again,  and  it  was 
the  saucy,  triumphant  laugh  of  the 
man  who  dodges  in  front  of  a  woman 
and  grabs  a  seat  on  the  elevated  rail- 
road. 


ON   REINCARNATION  41 

"  The  next  time  we  meet  you  will 
not  do  me  as  you  did  me  at  the  base 
of  Pompey's  statue,"  said  the  ghost 
of  Caesar,  speaking  for  the  first  time 
since  we  began  this  study. 

"  We  will  not  meet  again  because 
I  refuse  to  associate  with  you,"  said 
Brutus. 

Caesar  smiled,  but  it  was  without 
mirth,  and  as  cold  as  the  notice  of 
suspension  on  the  door  of  a  bank. 

"  Yes,  we  will  meet  again,"  said 
Caesar. 

"  Where?  "  asked  Brutus. 

"  In  the  far,  far  future,"  said  the 
ghost  of  Caesar  shriekingly,  "  you  will 
be  born  into  the  world  again  by  that 
time,  and  in  your  new  personality  you 
will  be  one  of  the  Common  People, 
and  you  will  burn  gas." 

"  And  you  ?  "  inquired  Brutus. 


42  GO  TO  IT! 

"  I  will  be  the  spirit  which  puts 
the  ginger  in  the  gas-meter,  and  may 
Heaven  have  mercy  on  your  pocket- 
book,"  shrieked  the  ghost  of  Caesar. 

Brutus  took  a  fit,  and  used  it  for 
many  minutes,  but  the  ghost  kept  on 
shrieking  in  the  Latin  tongue. 
Third  Study. 

Napoleon  stood  weeping  and  wail- 
ing and  gnashing  his  eyebrows  on 
the  battle-field  of  Waterloo. 

He  was  waiting  for  the  moving- 
picture  man  to  get  his  photograph. 

The  victorious  Wellington  made 
his  appearance,  laughing  loudly  in  his 
sleeve. 

"Back,  Nap!  back  to  the  Boule- 
vard des  Dago !  "  commanded  Well- 
ington. 

Napoleon  put  his  chin  on  his  wish- 
bone and  spoke  no  word. 


'  YOU    MUST    LEAVE  THE    BATTLEFIELD — IT    IS   TIME    TO    CLOSE 
UP  FOB  THE  NIGHT." 

Page  43. 


ON   REINCARNATION  43 

"  You,"  said  Wellington ;  "  you  to 
the  Champs  Eliza!  This  is  my  vic- 
tory, and  you  must  leave  the  battle- 
field— it  is  time  to  close  up  for  the 
night." 

"  We  will  meet  again,  milord,"  an- 
swered Napoleon.  "  Avec  beau  temps 
isi  bong  swat!" 

"What  does  that  mean?"  asked 
Wellington. 

"  It  means  that  the  next  time  we 
meet  I  will  do  the  swatting,"  an- 
swered Napoleon  bitterly. 

"  And  when  will  that  be  ?  "  inquired 
Wellington,  laughing  loudly. 

"  In  the  far,  far  future,"  replied 
the  Little  Corporal.  "  You  will  then 
be  one  of  the  Common  People." 

"  And  what  will  you  be  ?  "  Welling- 
ton asked. 


44  GO  TO  IT! 

"  You  will  live  in  Brooklyn,"  Na- 
poleon went  on,  like  a  man  in  a 
dream ;  "  and  I  will  be  the  spirit  of 
progress,  which  will  meet  you  at  the 
Brooklyn  Bridge  at  eventide,  and  kick 
you  in  the  slats  until  your  appetite  is 
unfit  for  publication.  Bon  soir  mes 
enfants  du  spitzbuben! " 

Then  the  Little  Corporal  called  a 
cab,  and  left  Wellington  alone  on  the 
battle-field. 

Don't  mind  me,  Bunch;  there's  no 
more  harm  in  me  than  there  is  in  a 
rattlesnake. 

Yours  as  indicated, 
J.H. 


CHAPTER  IV 

JOHN  HENRY  ON  THE  DRUMMERS  HE 
MET. 

UTICA.     Wednesday. 

DEAR  BUNCH:  I'm  headed 
for  home,  but  the  hurdles  are 
holding  me  back. 

I  met  a  whole  flock  of  "  the  boys  " 
in  Rochester  yesterday  morning,  and 
since  most  of  'em  were  making  a  fly- 
ing leap  for  New  York,  you  can  be- 
lieve me  it  was  a  swift  squad  of 
sports  that  climbed  into  one  of  Mr. 
Pullman's  sleep-wagons  and  per- 
mitted themselves  to  be  yanked  over 
the  rails. 

A   bunch    of    brisk   ones — believe 

me! 


46  GO  TO  IT! 

There  was  Charlie  Hammond, 
leading  man  with  the  "  Kitty,  the 
Kash  Girl "  Company ;  David  Tor- 
rence,  first  heavy  with  the  melo- 
drama entitled  "  The  Haunted  Auto- 
mobile; or,  Who  Stole  the  Muffler?  " 
Frank  Westerton,  first  low  sad  with 
the  "  Crazy-Quilt  Burlesquers  " ; 
Emmett  Corrigan,  who  is  lecturing 
through  the  Provinces  on  "  How  To 
Play  Bridge  Without  Impairing  The 
Tonsils " ;  Malcolm  Williams,  the 
handsomest  leading  man  in  the  show- 
business — when  completely  shaved ; 
William  Burress,  the  Bath-robe  King ; 
Charlie  Abbott,  who  sells  that  fine 
Monticello  honey-dew,  and  Arthur 
Shaw. 

Shaw  travels  for  a  clothing  house 
in  Cincinnati,  and  they  ca-11  him  Slim 
because  he's  getting  so  fat  that  every 


ON    DRUMMERS    HE    MET  4/ 

time  he  turns  around  he  meets  him- 
self coming  back. 

He's  all  to  the  good — that  boy  is ! 

And  such  a  cut-up ! 

Slim  knows  more  "  look-out ! — 
there's-a-lady-over-there !  "  stories 
than  any  other  drummer  in  the  busi- 
ness. 

Then  there  was  Nick  Dalrymple 
and  Tod  Gilpin — two  live  ones  with 
a  full  set  of  sparks  flying. 

Nick  goes  after  the  orders  for  a 
hardware  house  in  Columbus,  and  he 
knows  everybody  in  the  world — bar 
one  family  living  in  Yonkers. 

Nick  has  only  one  trouble,  he  will 
paddle  after  the  ponies. 

Whenever  he  makes  a  town  where 
there's  a  poolroom  his  expense-ac- 
count gets  fat  and  beefy,  and  Nick 


48  GO  TO  IT! 

begins  to  worry  for  fear  he  may  witi 
something. 

He  won  $12  in  Cleveland  once,  and 
he  spent  $218  at  a  boozeologist's  that 
night  getting  statistics  on  how  it  hap- 
pened. 

Tod  Gilpin  cuts  ice  for  a  match- 
factory  in  Newark,  and  he's  the  life 
of  a  small  party. 

Tod's  main  hold  is  to  creep  into 
the  "  reading-room  "  of  a  Rube  ho- 
tel after  the  chores  are  done  of  an 
evening  and  throw  salve  at  the  come- 
ons. 

Tod  tells  them  that  their  town  is 
the  brightest  spot  on  the  map,  and 
they  warm  up  to  him  and  want  to  buy 
him  sarsaparilla  and  root  beer. 

Then  when  he  gets  them  stuck  on 
themselves  he  sells  them  matches. 

"  Pipe  the  gang  to  quarters  and  all 


ON    DRUMMERS    HE    MET  49 

rubber!"  said  Slim,  about  half  an 
hour  after  the  train  pulled. 

In  the  seat  ahead  of  us  a  some- 
what demure-looking  Proposition  in 
rainbow  rags  had  been  sampling  the 
scenery  ever  since  we  started. 

We  had  all  given  her  the  glad 
glance,  but  she  was  very  much  Cold 
Storage,  so  we  passed  it  up. 

As  Slim  spoke,  the  Proposition  was 
joined  by  a  young  chap  with  a  loose 
face,  who  had  been  out  in  the  smo- 
king-room working  faithfully  on  one 
of  those  pa  jama  panatella  cigars  that 
bite  you  on  the  finger  if  you  show 
the  least  sign  of  fear. 

Just  then  the  train  stopped  for  a 
few  minutes,  and  we  were  put  wise  to 
the  fact  that  it  was  an  incurable  case 
of  bride  and  groom. 


50  GO  TO  IT! 

"  Oh !  Boozey  is  back  to  his 
Birdie!"  said  the  brand-new  wife. 
"  Did  Boozey  like  his  smoky  woky?  " 

Boozey  opened  a  bunch  of  grins 
and  sat  down,  while  wifey  patted  his 
cheek  and  cooed: 

"  Is  urns  glad  to  get  back  to  urns 
'ittle  wifey-pifey?  " 

Dave  Torrence  and  Charlie  Ham- 
mond began  to  scream  inwardly,  and 
Slim  was  chuckling  like  a  pet  por- 
poise. 

"  Sweetie  mustn't  be  angry  with 
Petie,  but  Sweetie  is  sitting  on  Petie's 
'ittle  hand !  "  said  the  bride,  where- 
upon Malcolm  Williams  exploded, 
and  Slim  began  to  grab  for  his  breath. 

A  Dutch  brewer  and  his  wife  sat 
right  ahead  of  Boozey  and  Birdie, 
and  every  once  in  a  while  the  old  hop- 
puncher  would  turn  around  and  beam 


ON   DRUMMERS    HE    MET  5! 

benignly  over  the  gold  rims  at  the 
bride. 

"  Boozey  must  snuggy-wuggy  up 
closer  to  his  Coozie  and  skeeze  her 
'itty  arm — no,  no,  not  her  waist! 
you  naughty !  naughty !  " 

The  brewer  was  back  at  the  bride 
with  another  gold-rimmed  goo-goo, 
when  his  wife  got  nervous  and  cut 
in: 

"  Is  id  you  turn  your  face  to  see 
someding — yes?"  she  snapped,  and 
the  foam-builder  ducked  to  the  win- 
dow and  began  to  eat  scenery. 

Westerton  was  almost  out;  Bur- 
ress  was  under  the  seat  sparring  for 
wind;  Slim  was  giving  an  imitation 
of  a  coal-barge  in  a  heavy  sea,  and  the 
rest  of  the  passengers  were  in  vari- 
ous stages  from  hiccoughs  to  convul- 
sions. 


52  GO  TO  IT! 

"  Is  Boozey  comfy  wif  his  'itty 
weeny  teeny  Birdie  ? "  chirped  the 
Bride. 

"  Boozey  is  so  happy  wif  his  izzy- 
wizzy ! "  gurgled  the  husband ; 
"how's  my  'ittle  girley  wirly?" 

"  Oh !  she's  such  a  happy-wappy 
'ittle  ring!"  giggled  the  dotty  dame, 
pinching  her  piggie's  ear,  whereupon 
the  brewer  tried  to  hand  the  bride  an- 
other gasoline  gaze,  but  the  old  lady 
caught  him  with  the  goods. 

"  Is  id  to  my  face  you  go  behind 
my  back  to  make  googley-googley 
eyes  ad  somevua  —  yes  ?  "  she 
growled,  and  in  a  minute  the  brewer's 
brow  was  busy  with  the  window 
pane. 

"  Sweetie  looks  at  Petie  and 
Sweetie  sees  that  Petie's  p'etty  face  is 
getting  sunburned,  so  it  is !  "  cuckooed 


ON   DRUMMERS    HE    MET  53 

Mrs.  Daffy ;  "  and  Sweetie  has  a  dood 
mind  to  tiss  him,  too !  " 

They  opened  a  newspaper,  crawled 
under  cover,  and  began  to  bite  each 
other  on  the  chin. 

"  Go  as  far  as  you  like ! "  said 
Slim,  then  he  went  down  and  out. 

The  man  who  helped  to  make  Wee- 
hawken  famous  had  his  head  out  the 
window  watching  for  an  ice-wagon, 
and  Mrs.  Brewer  was  industriously 
muttering  "  Du  bist  ein  Narr !  Du 
bist  ein  Narr !  " 

Just  then  the  train  pulled  out  and 
saved  our  lives. 

Dave,  Frank,  Bill,  Slim,  Charlie, 
Malcolm,  and  I  rushed  feverishly  up 
to  the  other  end  of  the  car  to  cool  off, 
and  there  we  landed  on  the  outskirts 
of  a  bunch  of  drummers,  who  were 


54  GO  TO  IT! 

fanning  each  other  with  fairy-tales 
about  the  goods  they  sold. 

I'll  back  three  of  the  lads  in  that 
collection  to  dream  longer  than  any 
other  drummers  on  the  track. 

It's  a  pipe  that  they  can  sell  bills 
to  each  other  all  day  and  never  wake 
up. 

A  guy  named  Mutt  Dawson  was 
holding  forth. 

He's  a  most  reckless  spendthrift 
with  his  words,  and  the  meanest  man 
to  the  English  language  I  ever  listened 
to. 

Mutt  was  telling  them  about  hyp- 
notizing a  John  Wanamaker  mer- 
chant prince  in  Pikesville,  Indiana,  to 
the  extent  of  $200  for  open-work 
socks,  farmer's  size,  and  then  a  chap 
named  Jack  Dean  sent  his  balloon  up 
by  telling  us  how  he  sold  the  Siegel- 


ON   DRUMMERS    HE    MET  55 

Coopers,  of  Bugsport,  Iowa,  $300 
worth  of  Panama  hats  for  horses. 

The  Hot  Air  Association  was  in 
full  session  when  Buck  Jones  caromed 
over  from  the  other  end  of  the  car 
and  weighed-in  with  us. 

Buck  is  a  sweller. 

He  thinks  he  strikes  twelve  on  all 
occasions,  but  his  clock  is  all  to  the 
pazaz. 

Buck  isn't  a  drummer — nay!  nay! 
take  back  your  gold! 

He'll  look  you  straight  in  the  eye 
and  tell  you  he's  a  traveling  salesman 
f — nix  on  the  drummer! 

I  think  Buck  sells  canned  shirt- 
waists for  the  Shine  Brothers. 

Buck's  wife  and  a  three-year-old 
were  traveling  with  him,  but  he 
wasn't  giving  it  out  through  a  mega- 
phone. 


56  GO  TO  IT! 

Buck  is  one  of  those  goose-headed 
guys  who  begin  to  scratch  gravel  and 
start  in  to  make  a  killing  every  time 
they  see  a  pretty  girl. 

Across  the  aisle  seat  sat  two  pet 
canaries  from  Plainfield,  New  Jer- 
sey. 

They  were  members  of  the  Sou- 
brette  Stinging  Society,  and  they 
were  en  route  to  the  West  to  join  the 
"  Bunch  of  Birds  Burlesque  Com- 
pany." 

Their  names  were  Millie  and  Tillie, 
and  they  wore  Merry  Widow  hats, 
and  did  a  sister  act  that  contained 
more  bad  grammar  than  an  East  Side 
pinochle  game. 

Millie  was  fully  aware  that  she 
could  back  Duse  off  the  map,  and 
Tillie  was  ready  to  bet  a  week's  sal- 
ary that  she  could  make  Bernhardt 


ON    DRUMMERS    HE    MET  57 

feel  like  she  was  out  in  the  storm  we 
had  day  before  yesterday. 

Slim  called  them  the  Roast-Beef 
Sisters,  Rare  and  Well-done. 

In  a  minute  the  castors  on  Buck's 
neck  began  to  turn. 

Slim  put  us  wise  with  a  wink,  so 
we  lit  the  fire  and  began  to  cook  it 
up. 

Buck's  heart  was  warming  for  the 
birds  in  the  gilded  cage. 

"  The  real  Kibo!  "  said  Slim;  "  it's 
a  plain  case  of  Appomattox ;  the  war 
is  over  and  they  are  yours,  Buck !  " 

Buck  turned  a  few  more  volts  into 
his  twinkling  lamps. 

"  Lower  your  mainsail,  Buck,  and 
drop  alongside;  you've  made  the 
landing,"  suggested  Burress. 

Buck  began  to  feel  his  necktie  and 


58  GO  TO  IT! 

play  patty-cake  with  the  little  bald 
spot  on  the  top  of  his  head. 

"  Stop  the  hansom  and  get  out ; 
you're  at  your  corner,"  said  Dave. 

The  Sweet  Dreams  across  the  way 
were  giving  Buck  the  glorious  eye- 
roll,  and  he  felt  that  dinner  was 
ready. 

"  Hang  up  your  hat,  Buck,  and 
gather  the  myrtle  with  Mary!"  I 
chipped  in. 

Then  Buck  bounced  over  and  be- 
gan to  show  Millie  and  Tillie  what 
a  handsome  brute  he  was  at  close 
quarters. 

He  sat  on  the  arm  of  the  seat  and 
steamed  up. 

In  less  than  a  minute  he  crowded 
the  information  on  them  that  he  was 
a  millionaire,  who  had  escaped  from 
Los  Angeles,  California,  and  he  was 


ON   DRUMMERS    HE   MET          59 

just  going  to  put  them  both  in  grand 
opera,  when  his  three-year-old  tod- 
dled down  the  aisle  and  grabbed  him 
by  the  coat-tail : 

"  Papa !  Mama  wants  'oo  to  det 
my  bottle  of  milk !  " 

"  Stung!  "  shrieked  Slim. 

"  Back  to  the  nursery !  "  howled 
Malcolm,  and  then  as  Buck  crawled 
away  to  home  and  mother  we  let  out 
a  yell  that  caused  the  conductor  to 
think  the  train  had  struck  a  Wild 
West  show. 

During  the  rest  of  the  trip  Buck 
was  nailed  to  his  seat. 

Every  time  he  tried  to  use  the  elas- 
tic in  his  neck,  the  wife  would  burn 
him  with  a  hard,  cold  glitter. 

The  Roast-Beef  Sisters  seemed  to 
be  all  carved  up  about  something  or 
other. 


60  GO  TO  IT! 

The  drummers  went  back  to  the 
shop,  and  were  selling  things  again 
when  Sledgeheimer  fluttered  down 
among  us. 

Maybe  you've  never  met  Jakey 
Sledgeheimer ! 

He  travels  for  a  firm  in  Brooklyn 
that  makes  imitation  grape-fruit  and 
rubber  finan  haddie. 

Jakey  is  the  laziest  loosener  that, 
ever  tied  a  string  around  a  roll. 

The  boys  call  him  putty  because 
he's  the  next  thing  to  a  pane. 

He's  such  a  stingy  loosener  that  he 
looks  at  you  with  one  eye  so's  not  to 
waste  the  other. 

If  you  ask  Sledgeheimer  what  time 
it  is  he  takes  off  four  minutes  as  his 
commission  for  telling  you. 

"  Slim,"  said  Sledgeheimer  to 
Arthur  Shaw,  "  do  you  smoke  ?  " 


ON   DRUMMERS    HE    MET  6l 

It  was  a  knock-out 

In  the  annals  of  the  road  no  one 
could  look  back  to  the  proud  day 
when  Sledgeheimer  had  coughed. 

Once,  so  the  legend  runs,  he  gave 
a  porter  a  nickel,  but  it  was  after- 
ward discovered  that  Sledgeheimer 
was  asleep,  and  not  responsible  at  the 
time,  so  the  porter  gave  it  back. 

Sledgeheimer  tried  to  collect  three 
cents  interest  for  the  time  the  porter 
kept  the  nickel,  and  the  conductor  had 
to  punch  his  mileage  and  his  nose  be- 
fore he'd  let  go. 

And  now  Sledgeheimer  had  asked 
Slim  if  he  smoked. 

Slim  was  pale  but  game. 

"  Sometimes !  "  he  answered. 

"  Do  you  like  a  goot  seegar  ?  " 
queried  Sledgeheimer. 


62  GO  TO  IT! 

We  looked  for  the  engine  to  hit  a 
cow  any  minute  now. 

"  Sure !  "  said  Slim,  weak  all  over. 

"  Veil,"  said  Sledgeheimer,  "  here 
is  my  brudder-in-law's  card.  He 
makes  dot  Grass  Vidow  seegar  on 
Sigsth  Afenue.  Gif  him  a  call  und 
mention  my  name.  He  vill  be  glat 
to  see  you,  yet." 

Then  Sledgeheimer  went  away 
back  and  sat  down. 

The  laugh  was  on  Slim,  so  he  dared 
us  all  into  the  cafe,  and  after  he  got 
busy  with  the  button  we  all  voted  in 
favor  of  a  Monticello  highball. 

After  we  had  dampened  our 
thirsts,  Bill  Burress  showed  us  how 
Hammerstein  would  Americanize 
"  Bingen  on  the  Rhine."  Bill  called 
it  "  Der  Empire,"  in  honor  of  the 
Empire  State  Express,  Frank  West- 


ON   DRUMMERS    HE   MET  63 

erton  said.     (English  joke — rotten!)' 
This  is  how  Bill  spieled  it : 

An  Empire  of  der  Big  League 
lay  dying,  full  mit  fears;  dare  vas 
lack  of  players'  nursing;  aber  nit  of 
players'  tears,  but  a  cop  policeman 
vatched  him  vile  his  life's  bleed  ebbed 
avay,  und  bent  mit  pidying  glances 
to  hear  vot  did  he  say.  Der  dying 
Empire  filtered  as  he  took  dot  cop- 
per's hant,  und  he  set :  "  I  nefer 
more  vill  see  my  own,  my  native  lant ; 
took  a  message  und  a  token  to  some 
distant  friends  of  mine,  for  I  vas 
born  at  Dopeville — at  Dopeville  down 
der  Line!" 

"  Tell  my  dear,  short-sighted  broth- 
ers ven  dey  meet  und  crowd  arount 
to  hear  my  mournful  story,  dot  I 
braf ely  held  my  grount ;  dot  I  foozled 


64  GO  TO  IT! 

my  decisions  und  I  googooed  at  der 
mob,  all  howling  for  my  heart's 
blood  (ours  is  a  fearful  chob)  ;  full 
many  a  kicker,  ghastly  vite,  hard  on 
der  bench  I  sat  until  some  players 
sneaked  behind  und  soaked  me  mit  a 
bat;  den  I  qvite  svift  und  suttenly 
vent  into  a  decline,  no  more  vill  I  see 
Dopeville — dear  Dopeville  down  der 
Line! 

"Tell  Pulliam  his  udder  sons  must 
comfort  his  olt  age! — ach,  how  I 
luffed  to  put  dis  head  of  mine  mitin 
a  cage!  For  my  father  vas  an  Em- 
pire bold,  und  efen  as  a  child  my 
heart  chumped  forth  to  hear  him  tolt 
of  struggles  fierce  und  vild,  und  ven 
he  died  und  left  us  all  ve  hat  to  took 
our  choice  I  let  dem  haf  yust  vot 
dey  vished  but  kept  my  father's 


ON   DRUMMERS   HE    MET  65 

woice,  und  mit  boyish  yells  I  prac- 
tised on  der  leedle  olt  cat  nine  on 
Sleepy  Street  in  Dopevilie — dear 
Dopeville  down  der  Line! 

"  Tell  my  brothers  in  der  pitzness 
not  to  stood  und  holt  deir  breath  und 
vatch  dem  awful  players  celebration- 
ing  my  death,  but  to  look  upon  dem 
proutly,  mit  a  colt  und  codfish  eye, 
und  fine  dem  to  der  limit — as  I  dit 
in  days  gone  by;  und  if  der  players 
fuss  demselfs,  und  mit  deir  vords 
eggsclaim,  yust  listen  at  dem  brief- 
lessly  und  chase  dem  from  der  game 
— for  der  Empire's  rank  decisionings 
must  be  backed  as  I  backed  mine  for 
der  honor  of  olt  Dopeville — sveet 
Dopeville  down  der  Line !  " 


'66  GO  TO  IT! 

His  woice  chumped  to  a  visper; 
his  grasp  vas  childish  veak;  his  eyes 
put  on  a  played-out  look,  his  speaker 
ceased  to  speak;  der  copper  bent  to 
lift  him,  but,  chee  viz!  it  vas  too 
late !  Der  Empire  of  der  Big  League 
vas  ouid — ouid  at  der  plate!  Three 
strikes,  py  Chimineddy!  und  he  hat 
no  chance  to  call  like  he  used  to  dit 
so  often :  "  Say !  dot  last  vun  vas 
a  ball !  "  Veil,  he's  gone,  I  eggs- 
pectation,  vare  der  voodbine  does  der 
tvine,  but  dare's  plendy  more  at 
Dopeville — dear  Dopeville  down  der 
Line! 

By  this  time  we  had  reached  Utica, 
and  I  had  to  quit  them. 

Yours,  as  usual, 
J.  H. 


CHAPTER  V 

JOHN    HENRY    ON    SANSCRIT   STORIES. 

ITHACA.     Thursday. 

DEAR  BUD :  I'm  going  to  pull 
something  on  you  in  this  let- 
ter that  will  make  you  get  up 

and  leave  the  room. 

t 
Just  to  kill  time,  I've  been  dabbling 

in  literature. 

(P.  S. — Time  died  a  violent  death, 
all  right,  all  right.) 

I  want  you  to  read  these  Little 
Stories  From  The  Sanscrit,  and  scold 
me  when  we  meet. 

Once  more,  go  to  it,  Bunch ! 


68  GO  TO  IT! 

The  Finish  of  Billdad. 

And  it  came  to  pass  that  Billdad 
the  son  of  Jimdad  was  worried  with- 
in himself,  and  he  communed  with 
himself,  saying:  "Behold!  I  must 
join  the  Brethren  of  the  Long  Thirst 
in  secret  session  this  night,  but  what 
good  thing  shall  I  say  unto  my  wife 
when  she  chides  me  with  having  no 
great  purpose  in  going  forth  ?  " 

And  Billdad  the  son  of  Jimdad 
glanced  disconsolately  at  his  favorite 
newspaper,  and  his  heart  was  like  lead 
within  him. 

And  even  as  he  read  a  smile  broke 
forth  from  the  gloom  that  overshad- 
owed his  face,  and  this  smile  was  like 
unto  the  first  faint  flush  of  the  wa- 
kening East,  and  he  arose  with  gur- 
glesome  glee  as  does  one  whose  mind 
is  relieved  of  a  mighty  burden. 


ON    SANSCRIT   STORIES  69 

And  he  communed  with  himself 
softly,  saying :  "  Politics !  'Tis  a 
pipe!" 

And  Billdad  the  son  of  Jimdad 
called  his  wife  to  his  side,  and  he 
spake  unto  her,  saying :  "  Maud,  the 
soft  whiteness  of  thy  cheek  is  fairer 
than  the  bloom  that  loves  to  linger 
on  the  lilies  of  the  Nile!  Thine  eyes 
are  twin  thieves,  which  by  some  sor- 
cery have  ta'en  the  light  from  yon 
poor,  weeping  star,  and  now  that  light 
must  lurk  forever  in  those  languor- 
ously limpid  depths!  Thy  smile,  O. 
Maud,  is  like  the  scintillating  sweet- 
ness of  a  Summer's  sky !  " 

And  Maud,  the  wife  of  Billdad  the 
son  of  Jimdad,  made  answer,  and 
said:  "  What  talk  have  ye,  Billdad? 
Quit  your  joshing,  or  I'll  baste  you 
with  the  broom.  Got  to  go  out  again 


70  GO  TO  IT! 

to-night,  I  suppose?  What  is  it  this 
time?  The  Inner  Circle  of  the  Royal 
Sons  of  a  Krupp  Gun?  Or  is  it  the 
Ancient  Order  of  the  Accidental  Dol- 
lar Bill?" 

And  Billdad  the  son  of  Jimdad  an- 
swered, and  said :  "  Nay,  sweet  wife 
of  my  weary  heart,  'tis  none  of  these. 
'Tis  politics  that  beckons  me  forth 
into  the  noisome  night.  Knowst  thou 
not  that  the  two  Great  Parties  will 
soon  have  to  grapple  in  the  final 
death-struggle,  and  my  uncertain  vote 
still  wavers  in  the  winds  of  indeci- 
sion! Therefore,  this  night,  O  wife 
of  my  weary  heart,  I  go  forth  to  join 
a  garrulous  group  of  statisticians, 
astrologists,  soothsayers,  and  seers  to 
the  end  that  my  eyes  may  clearly  see 
the  light  and  my  vote  may  count 
upon  the  side  of  Right.  Be  thou  of 


ON    SANSCRIT   STORIES  /I 

good  cheer,  beloved,  for  I  shall  sit 
at  the  feet  of  the  wise  men  of  Egypt 
and  imbibe  much  wisdom.  Where- 
fore, thou  need'st  not  wait  up  for  me, 
for  politics  is  like  unto  an  owl-train 
for  lateness,  and  the  soothsayers  say 
not  neither  do  they  sooth  until  the 
world  is  in  the  dead  waste  of  night !  " 

And  Billdad  the  son  of  Jimdad 
went  forth  to  sit  at  the  feet  of  the 
wise  men  of  Egypt.  And  it  came  to 
pass  that  full  soon  his  heaving  bosom 
rested  on  the  onyx  trimmings  of  the 
bar,  and  his  right  foot  was  in  tender 
touch  with  the  brass  rail  at  the  base 
thereof. 

And  a  great  joy  shone  forth  from 
his  eyes  as  he  murmured:  "Six 
beers — what  are  you  going  to  have  ?  " 

And  when  the  night  was  far  spent, 
Billdad  the  son  of  Jimdad  drew  zig- 


72  GO  TO  IT! 

zaggingly  nigh  unto  his  habitation, 
and  his  knees  were  prone  to  wobble 
with  much  uncertainty  of  purpose. 

And  Maud,  the  wife  of  Billdad  the 
son  of  Jimdad,  stood  in  the  open 
door,  and  she  made  scornful  conjec- 
ture, saying :  "  Ha !  ha !  Thou  did'st 
sit  at  the  feet  of  the  wise  men  of 
Egypt,  eh?  Thou  look'st  the  part, 
for,  methinks,  the  wise  men  of  Eygpt 
used  you  for  a  door-mat.  Thou  did'st 
also  imbibe  wisdom — from  a  stein! 
Bah,  Billdad!  Speak  not  to  me  of 
politics!  Come,  now,  stand  before 
me,  Billdad,  and  with  straightfor- 
ward voice  say  after  me  these  words : 
'  I  simply  stood  and  heard  those 
speakers  shout ! ' 

And  Billdad  the  son  of  Jimdad 
swayed  gently  to  and  fro  in  the  light 
of  the  breaking  morn,  and  he  spake, 


ON    SANSCRIT   STORIES  73 

saying :     "  I  shimly  sh'ood  an'  h'er' 
zoash  sheekers  spout !  " 

And  of  the  fretful  finish  of  Billdad 
the  son  of  Jimdad  let  there  be  no 
cruel  chronicle  made. 

The  Man  of  Genius. 

And  it  came  to  pass  that  a  certain 
man  of  Genius  came  out  of  the  wil- 
derness playing  upon  the  timbrel  and 
the  lute,  and  by  his  side  were  his  wife 
and  seven  small  children. 

And  the  Man  of  Genius  played 
upon  the  timbrel  and  the  lute  with 
much  beauty,  for  his  soul  was  syn- 
copated and  his  heart  was  the  home 
of  every  classical  cadenza. 

And  it  came  to  pass  that  this  Man 
of  Genius  wandered  over  the  face  of 
the  earth,  and  his  wife  and  seven 
small  children  followed  after,  but  the 


74  GO  TO  IT! 

public  passed  him  the  ice-pitcher,  and 
worry  was  his  portion. 

And  his  head  was  even  as  a  door- 
knob for  smoothness,  and  in  all  out- 
ward respects  he  was  a  full  brother 
to  Shine  and  to  Polish  and  to  Glisten, 
the  Bixbyites. 

And  it  came  to  pass  that  as  the 
Man  of  Genius  traveled  afoot  by  rail 
to  a  far  place,  he  was  met  by  a 
Stranger  clad  in  gay  raiment,  and  the 
Stranger  spake,  saying :  "  Up  against 
it,  eh!" 

And  the  Man  of  Genius  made  an- 
swer, and  said :  "  To  the  limit !  be- 
hold I  hire  the  town  hall,  and  play 
upon  the  timbrel  and  the  lute  with 
exceeding  delicacy,  but  I  can't  make 
carfare.  Wherefore  I  am  prone  to 
believe  that  Fate  has  given  me  the 
double-cross ! " 


ON   SANSCRIT   STORIES  75 

And  the  Stranger  looked  at  the 
Wife  and  the  seven  small  children  of 
the  Man  of  Genius,  and  laughed  him 
the  horse-laugh,  thus — Ha,  ha! 

And  the  Stranger  glanced  pitying- 
ly at  the  bald  pate  of  the  Man  of 
Genius,  and  spake,  saying :  "  I  am 
a  Prevaricator  for  Press  Purposes, 
and  I'll  put  you  next !  " 

And  the  Man  of  Genius  made  an- 
swer, and  said :  "  Cut  loose,  I 
prithee;  cut  loose!  " 

And  the  Stranger  smiled  as  smiles 
a  glad  morning  in  May,  and  he  spake 
freely  to  this  end :  "  Wherefore,  O 
Man  of  Genius,  success  is  a  coy  crea- 
ture, and  in  these  modern  days  comes 
forth  only  at  my  hypnotic  command. 
Heed  thou  my  instructions :  Go  thou 
home  and  lock  up  thy  wife  and  seven 
small  children  in  the  cellar,  for  the 


76  GO  TO  IT! 

Man  of  Genius  who  playeth  upon  the 
timbrel  and  the  lute  must  be  in  a  state 
of  single  blessedness,  or  the  giddy 
girls  will  give  his  cadenzas  the  clam- 
my cachination,  and  refuse  to  wor 
ship  at  his  shrine.  Therefore,  O  Man 
of  Genius,  put  thy  wife  and  seven 
little  children  away  in  a  safety-deposit 
vault  until  thou  hast  accumulated 
shekels  of  gold  and  of  silver!" 

And  the  Man  of  Genius  made  an- 
swer, and  said:  "  Sure,  Mike!  " 

And  the  Stranger,  clad  in  fine  rai- 
ment, pulled  forth  from  the  depths  of 
his  inside  pocket  a  vial.  And  on  the 
vial  was  writ  these  words:  "Seven 
Sunderland  Sisters'  Hirsute  Hur- 
rier." 

And  the  Stranger  spake  unto  the 
Man  of  Genius,  saying:  "Soak  your 
bald  spots  with  this  and  Paderewske- 


THE    STRANGER    PULLED     FORTH     FROM    THE     DEPTHS     OF     HIS 
INSIDE  POCKET  A   VIAL. 

Page  76. 


ON   SANSCRIT   STORIES  7/ 

rize  yourself  unto  the  extreme  limit, 
for  hair  captureth  more  hearts  than 
harmony." 

And  the  Man  of  Genius  made  an- 
swer, and  said:  "  Betcherlife!  " 

And  the  Stranger  spake  further, 
saying :  "  When  thy  hair  is  grown 
to  such  lengths  that  the  street-cars  fly 
the  track  in  dismay,  we  will  go  forth 
into  the  world.  And  I  shall  call  the 
people  of  the  press  around  me,  and  I 
shall  speak  to  them  in  these  words: 
'  Behold !  I  am  the  discoverer  of  Ge- 
nius! In  the  wild  woods  of  his  na- 
tive haunts  I  captured  him  with  a  net 
and  dragged  him  hither  to  astonish 
the  world.  His  is  the  form  and  face 
to  make  Adonis  look  like  ten,  twenty, 
and  thirty  cents.  His  hair  is  a  moun- 
tain of  silk  for  loveliness,  and  his 
eyes  are  as  the  depths  of  the  night  for 


78  GO  TO  IT! 

dreaminess.  The  long  road  hither  is 
lined  by  a  multitude  of  women  who 
have  begged  the  sweet  privilege  of 
being  trampled  beneath  the  dainty 
feet  of  this  Man  of  Genius :  ten  thou- 
sand lovely  girls  are  even  now 
crowded  about  the  portals  of  his  ho- 
tel sighing  and  supplicating  one  smile 
from  him  who  is  their  idol.  He  play- 
eth  upon  the  timbrel  and  the  lute,  and 
the  world  is  dumb  with  joy,  therefore, 
oh,  people  of  the  press,  whoop  'er 
up !  whoop  'er  up ! '  And  the  people 
of  the  press  will  write  column  after 
column  about  you,  and  we  shall  have 
money  for  bonfire  purposes !  " 

And  the  Man  of  Genius  made  an- 
swer, and  said :  "  Gee  whiz !  go  to  it ! 
go  to  it !  " 

And  it  came  to  pass  that  the  Pre- 
varicator for  Press  Purposes  and  the 


ON    SANSCRIT   STORIES  79 

Man  of  Genius  went  forth  together, 
and  the  world  sat  at  their  feet  in  si- 
lent adoration.  And  the  wife  and 
seven  small  children  of  the  Man  of 
Genius  sat  sorrowfully  within  the 
safety-deposit  vaults  and  wotted  not 
that  a  million  moaning  maidens 
gazed  soul  fully  at  Papa. 

Pebbleonthebeach. 
And  it  came  to  pass  that  a  certain 
City  Man  looked  upon  the  sun  when 
it  was  red,  and  he  communed  with 
himself,  saying:  "  Behold!  the  sum- 
mer approacheth  on  rubber  shoes,  and 
the  mercury  will  soon  be  up  against 
the  roof  of  its  habitation;  therefore, 
it  behooveth  me  to  journey  quickly 
unto  the  Land  of  Pebbleonthebeach, 
lest,  peradventure,  a  great  humidity 
shall  rise  up  over  the  city  and  trans- 
form me  into  a  state  of  meltedness." 


8o  GO  TO  IT! 

And  the  City  Man  spake  unto  his 
wife  and  his  wife's  nearest  kinswom- 
an; and  unto  all  the  diminutive  mem- 
bers of  his  own  individual  tribe,  say- 
ing :  "  Behold,  the  bow-wow  days 
will  soon  be  upon  us;  therefore  let 
us  pull  down  the  blinds,  place  our 
worldly  possessions  in  the  frapped 
depths  of  the  safety-vault,  and  hie  us 
to  that  balmy  peace  fulness  which  the 
gentle-voiced  advertisements  say 
abounds  with  a  joyous  plentitude  in 
the  Land  of  Pebbleonthebeach  forever 
and  ever." 

And  the  wife  of  the  City  Man  and 
her  nearest  kinswoman  and  all  the 
dimunitive  members  of  his  own  indi- 
vidual tribe  made  swift  answer,  and 
spake,  saying :  "  Let's !  " 

And  it  came  to  pass  that  they  jour- 
neyed unto  the  Land  of  Pebbleonthe- 


ON   SANSCRIT   STORIES 

beach,  and  their  hearts  were  glad 
within  them,  for  the  scene  was  fair  to 
look  upon,  and  the  ocean  was  full  of 
cold  water. 

And  lo!  even  as  they  looked  a  hot 
wave  arrived  on  a  fast  train  from  the 
City  and  enveloped  all  the  Land  of 
Pebbleonthebeach,  and  humidity  also 
arrived  in  perspiratious  quantities, 
and  made  the  Land  of  Pebbleonthe- 
beach to  look  and  feel  like  the  inner- 
most recesses  of  a  Japanese  war-ship 
during  a  battle  in  the  newspapers. 

And  the  City  Man  and  the  City 
Man's  wife  and  his  wife's  nearest 
kinswoman,  and  all  the  diminutive 
members  of  his  own  individual  tribe, 
forsook  their  raiment  and  rushed  into 
the  ocean,  which  was  full  of  cold  wa- 
ter, saying  to  one  another :  "  Ha ! 


82  GO  TO  IT! 

ha!  the  humidity  cannot  touch  us 
here!" 

And  behold !  the  waves  put  on  their 
little  white  caps  and  communed  one 
with  another,  saying :  "  The  City- 
ites  are  in  our  midst;  let  us  make 
merry  with  them !  " 

And  straightway  the  little  waves 
collaborated  in  a  successful  effort  to 
land  on  the  City  Man's  solar  plexus, 
and  what  they  did  to  him  was  a  plen- 
tiful plentitude.  And  unto  the  wife 
of  the  City  Man  the  little  waves  did 
likewise,  until  she  was  fain  to  scream 
sufficiency. 

And  the  undertow  grabbed  the 
City  Ma,n's  Wife's  nearest  kinswom- 
an and  stood  her  on  her  head,  and 
rendered  her  unfit  for  speechifica- 
tion. 

And  the  members  of  the  life-sa- 


ON    SANSCRIT   STORIES  83 

ving  station  worked  overtime  hauling 
from  the  cavernous  depths  of  the 
ocean  the  diminutive  members  of  the 
City  Man's  own  individual  tribe ;  and 
trouble  was  their  portion. 

And  when  the  Cityites  were  come 
back  from  the  bosom  of  the  mighty 
deep,  the  Mosquito  and  the  Landlord 
presented  their  bills,  and,  yea!  unto 
this  very  hour  the  City  Man  knoweth 
not  which  bill  penetrated  with  the 
most  terrifying  penetrativeness. 

And  it  came  to  pass  that  the  City 
Man  knew  no  peace  in  the  Land  of 
Pebbleonthebeach,  and  he  communed 
with  himself,  saying:  "  Lo!  the  gen- 
tle-voiced advertisement  is  a  delusion 
and  a  snare;  for  the  wild  waves  are 
even  as  an  automobile  chauffeur  for 
rudeness;  the  humidity  followeth  un- 
ceasingly, and  the  Mosquito  stingeth 


84  GO  TO  IT! 

like  an  adder.  Therefore  will  I  gath- 
er the  remnants  of  my  tribe  about  me 
and  flee  for  the  City  whence  I  came, 
lest,  peradventure,  the  Landlord  shall 
take  my  wearing  apparel,  even  as  he 
hath  taken  my  purse  and  the  contents 
thereof." 

And  straightway  he  got  up  and  gat. 

And  even  as  he  gat  he  communed 
with  himself,  saying:  "  Stang!  " 

Cheer  up,  Bunch;  the  wurst  is  yet 
to  come,  as  the  man  said  when  the 
waiter  didn't  bring  the  sausage. 
Yours  as  hitherto, 
J.  H. 


CHAPTER  VI 

JOHN    HENRY    ON    THE    LAWMAKERS. 

ALBANY.     Friday. 

DEAR  BUNCH:  I've  been  in 
this  burg  for  a  few  hours 
mingling  with  the  lawma- 
kers, and  it  isn't  such  expensive  min- 
gling at  that — only  about  fifty  ko- 
pecks to  the  hour. 

This  afternoon  I  was  introduced 
to  a  couple  of  hand-made  politicians, 
and  they  certainly  did  hand  me  a 
scream. 

These  two  language-killers  have 
been  political  enemies  for  years,  and 
every  time  they  meet  they  simply 
stand  around  and  throw  worn-out 
words  at  each  other. 


86  GO  TO  IT! 

One  of  them  listens  to  the  name  of 
Mike,  and  the  other  will  squeeze  up 
to  the  bar  and  nominate  his  brew  if 
you  call  him  Rudolph. 

As  for  their  last  names — well,  in 
the  interests  of  good  government  I 
won't  mention  them. 

Suffice  it  to  say  that  Mike  bears 
the  same  relation  to  Albany  politics 
that  a  mustard  plaster  does  to  a  cold 
on  the  chest — even  if  he  doesn't  get 
there,  he  leaves  his  mark. 

When  Mike  reached  the  age  of  dis- 
cretion he  decided  to  become  a  great 
man,  so  he  opened  a  saloon  and  be- 
came. 

I  was  standing  in  front  of  the  Ten 
Eyck  talking  with  Mike  when  Ru- 
dolph, his  lifelong  opponent,  bore 
down  upon  us. 

Just  to  show  me  a  good  time,  Mike 


ON   THE   LAWMAKERS  87 

immediately  stopped  Rudolph  and 
asked  him  if  business  was  good  in 
his  lemon- factory. 

"Ha,  ha!"  roared  Rudolph,  like 
an  old  war-horse  answering  the  bugle- 
call  ;  "  I  challenge  you  to  a  joint  de- 
bate!" 

"All  right,"  said  Mike;  "let  us 
go  to  my  joint  and  have  it." 

They  did  so,  and  I  followed  on. 

Never  before  in  Albany  were  there 
so  many  quick  questions  and  loose 
answers. 

Epigrams  flowed  like  water. 

"  Two  beers  —  what  will  you 
have?"  inquired  Mike. 

"  Make  mine  the  same,"  answered 
Rudolph. 

"  You  are  my  opponent,  I  be- 
lieve ?  "  said  Mike. 

"  Your  belief  gives  me  much  pleas- 


88  GO  TO  IT! 

ure,"  said  Rudolph,  with  a  tall,  fat 
bow. 

"  How  long  have  you  been  in  poli- 
tics? "  asked  Mike. 

"  Not  so  long  in  as  to  be  out,"  an- 
swered Rudolph. 

"  Score  one  for  Rudolph,"  said  the 
referee. 

"  One  what?  "  asked  Mike. 

"  Make  it  a  beer,"  answered  Ru- 
dolph. 

"  Do  you  know  Demosthenes  ? " 
asked  Mike,  winking  at  the  bartender. 

"  Yes ;  his  first  name  is  Abe,  and 
he  works  in  a  seegar-store  near  the 
N.  Y.  Central  depot,"  said  Rudolph. 

Mike  began  to  look  worried. 

"  I  wish  to  conduct  this  joint  de- 
bate along  literary  lines,"  said  Mike. 

"All  right,"  said  Rudolph;  "make 
mine  the  same !  " 


ON   THE   LAWMAKERS  89 

"Do  you  know  Socrates?"  asked 
Mike. 

"  Do  you  mean  the  guy  that  runs 
the  butcher-shop  over  at  Troy?  "  said 
Rudolph. 

"  No,"  said  Mike;  "  the  Socrates  I 
mean  is  dead." 

"  Cut  out  the  dead  ones — they  don't 
vote,"  said  Rudolph. 

"  Score  another  for  Rudolph," 
said  the  referee. 

"  Make  mine  the  same,"  said  Ru- 
dolph. 

"  What  is  politics  ? "  inquired 
Mike. 

"  Politics  is  where  we  get  it — 
sometimes  in  the  neck  and  sometimes 
in  the  bank,"  answered  Rudolph. 

"  You're  full  of  wisdom,  ain't 
you  ?  "  said  Mike. 

"  Yes;  but  I'm  willing  to  get  it  wet 


90  GO  TO  IT! 

— another  beer,  please !  "  said  Ru- 
dolph. 

"  Time !  "  said  the  referee ;  "  take 
your  corners !  " 

"  Now,"  said  Mike ;  "  you  ask  me 
some  questions." 

"  What  is  a  politician?  "  asked  Ru- 
dolph. 

"  A  politician  is  the  reason  we  have 
so  much  politics,"  answered  Mike. 

Much  applause  left  the  hands  of 
those  present. 

"What  is  a  statesman?"  inquired 
Rudolph. 

"  A  statesman  is  a  politician  in  a 
glass  case,"  answered  Mike. 

"  What  is  the  difference  between 
Liberty  and  Freedom?"  inquired 
Rudolph. 

"  Freedom  is  where  you  come  to 
this  country  and  find  steady  employ- 


ON   THE   LAWMAKERS  $1. 

ment  and  good  wages;  Liberty  is 
where  you  vote  my  ticket  or  you  lose 
your  job !  "  answered  Mike. 

The  applause  which  followed  was 
so  enthusiastic  that  the  bartender 
couldn't  supply  the  demand. 

"  Have  you  ever  read  the  '  Dec- 
laration of  Indianapolis  '  ?  "  asked 
Rudolph. 

"How  can  I,  when  they  don't  print 
it  on  the  five-dollar  bills  ?  "  answered 
Mike. 

"  Do  you  believe  that  all  men  are 
born  equal  ?  "  said  Rudolph. 

"Sure  I  do,"  said  Mike;  "but 
some  are  lucky  enough  to  get  over 
it." 

"The  joint  debate  is  finished!" 
exclaimed  the  referee. 

"  What  is  the  result  ?  "  inquired 
Mike. 


92  GO  TO  IT! 

"  About  eight  dollars  in  cash  and 
sixteen  rounds  of  beer  on  the  house," 
said  the  bartender. 

This  shows  you  what  to  expect  in 
Albany,  Bunch,  where  the  streets  are 
full  of  wisdom  and  the  hot  air  from 
the  Legislature  keeps  the  citizens 
warm  and  happy  all  the  winter. 

It  is  here,  Bunch,  that  all  the  laws 
are  made  which  govern  New  York 
City. 

Realizing  that  fact,  and,  inspired 
by  the  local  atmosphere,  I  have  writ- 
ten a  little  booklet  on  that  subject. 

Go  to  it,  Bunch,  and  think  it  over 
carefully : 

"WHEN  REUBEN   COMES   TO 
TOWN  " 

'(Or,  Don't  Step  Off  The  Car  Back- 
ward. ) 


ON   THE   LAWMAKERS  93 

CHAPTER  ONE. 

"Bugosh!" 

The  speaker  had  a  red  fringe  on 
his  face  from  both  ears  downward  to 
the  chin,  where  it  swayed  gently  to 
and  fro  in  the  breezes. 

"  What  is  it,  Si  ?  "  inquired  another 
voice,  after  its  owner  had  indulged  in 
a  terrific  encounter  with  a  large  frag- 
ment of  Navy  Plug. 

"  Guldern  it,  Seth ;  I  was  thinking 
abaout  New  York  City,  that's  all !  " 

"Ecus!" 

"  Makes  me  devilish  uneasy  think- 
in'  abaout  it;  by  Heck,  it  does, 
Seth!" 

"Ecus!" 

"  Biggest  guldern  taown  in  this  yer 
contynent,  Seth !  " 

"Ecus!" 


94  GO  TO  IT! 

"  More  houses  an'  people  an'  street- 
cars an'  sech  than  you  could  shake  a 
good-sized  stick  at !  " 

"  Ecus !  but  we  don't  have  to  go 
thar,  do  we,  Si  ?  " 

"  No,  Seth ;  but  havin'  been  elected 
to  the  Legislatur,  I'll  have  to  leave 
the  farm  of  my  childhood  an'  go  to 
Albany  an'  make  laws  to  guide  and 
govern  the  citizens  of  that  thar  City 
of  New  York." 

"Ecus!" 

"  'Tain't  no  easy  job  for  an  onex- 
perienced  man  'at  ain't  used  to  it  to 
jump  right  in  and  make  laws  for  a 
big'  city  like  New  York,  it  ain't,  by 
Heck,  it  ain't,  Si!" 

"  Ecus !  the  runabout  had  a  new 
coat  of  red  paint  last  week,  and  the 
old  gray  mare'll  be  hitched  up  afore 
daylight  day  after  to-morrow  plenty 


ON   THE   LAWMAKERS  95 

a  time  to  catch  the  five  o'clock  ac- 
commydation.  I  reckon  we'll  kinder 
miss  you  araound  here,  Seth,  'special- 
ly when  thar's  kindlin'  wood  to  split." 

"  But  think  how  guldern  noble  it'll 
be  to  take  and  leave  the  imprints  of 
my  goloshes  on  the  pages  of  his- 
tory!" 

"  Ecus !  but  you'd  better  take  them 
off'n  the  top  of  the  stuv ;  the  odor  of 
burnin'  rubber  ain't  music  to  the  ear, 
Seth!" 

"Well,  by  Heck,  if  it  ain't  so;  an' 
this  the  on'y  pair  of  real  Arties  be- 
tween here  and  the  Ten-Mile  store !  " 

"Ecus!" 

CHAPTER  TWO. 
"Bugosh!" 

"What's  the  trouble,  Seth?" 
"  I  wisht  I  could  think  of  some 
guldern  fuss-class  law  for  New  York 


96  GO  TO  IT! 

City  that'd  git  me  talked  abaout  a  hull 
lot.  Ain't  nothin'  advances  a  man 
quicker'n  to  be  talked  abaout  in  them 
New  York  papers,  by  Heck !  " 

"  Ecus !  did  you  feed  the  pigs  'fore 
you  come  up  from  the  barn,  Seth?  " 

"  Seems  to  me  I  did.  Soon's  we 
git  to  Albany  I'm  a-goin'  right  to  the 
Governor,  see  if  I  can't  get  up  some 
kind  of  a  law  for  New  York  City — > 
they  need  new  ones  there  all  the  time, 
Si!" 

"Ecus !  but  just  as  soon  as  I  git  to 
Albany,  the  fuss  thing  I  do  is  to  make 
a  dive  for  one  of  them  swell  caffys 
an'  jest  abaout  surround  one  of  them 
oyster  stews.  Jumpin'  beeswax!  the 
memories  that  dear  word  recalls! 
Oyster  stew!  Here  on  the  farm  I 
have  suffered  without  one  since  the 
last  Legislatur,  but  deep  in  my  soul 


ON   THE   LAWMAKERS  97 

I  have  carried  the  picture  of  those 
two-fer-a-quarter  stews  with  real  oys- 
ters ! — ecus !  " 

"Bugosh!" 

Then  for  a  space  neither  spoke, 
because  their  thoughts  were  far  away, 
where  the  sign  over  the  door  says: 
"  Wheat  Cakes  While  You  Wait  and 
Surprising  Coffee." 

CHAPTER  THREE. 

"Bugosh!" 

"  Don't,  Seth ;  I  was  a-dreamin* 
that  the  waiter  was  asking  me  if  I'd 
have  one  of  yesterday's  clam-chow- 
ders, marked  down  to  eight  cents — 
my,  my !  what  dreams  may  come !  " 

"  I  saw  it  in  the  Spoonburg  Chron- 
icle that  New  York  City  wants  local 
option,"  said  Seth,  after  a  long  pause. 

"Ecus!" 

"  I  s'pose  that  means  suthin'  differ- 


98  GO  TO  IT! 

ent  from  haow  it  sounds ;  them  things 
always  do." 

"Ecus!" 

"  Well,  whatever  it  means,  New 
York  City  ain't  goin'  to  git  it  while 
I'm  in  the  Legislatur.  What  is  your 
opinion  about  it,  Si;  do  you  reckon 
it's  some  new-fangled  kind  of  a  trol- 
ley-car?" 

Si  was  silent,  but  from  the  man- 
ner in  which  the  hair  on  his  head 
came  down  to  meet  his  eyebrows  one 
would  surmise  that  his  brain  was 
being  sent  along  under  forced 
draught. 

Presently,  however,  Si  "  bu- 
goshed,"  and  the  silence  fell  apart. 

"  If  it  means  what  I  think  it  does," 
said  Si  bitterly,  "  then  New  York  is 
more  wicked  than  I  tried  to  find  it  the 
time  I  went  thar — ecus !  " 


SI  LEANED   OVER   AND   WHISPERED  SOMETHING  TO  SETH. 


Page  99. 


ON   THE   LAWMAKERS  9Q 

Si  leaned  over  and  whispered  some- 
thing to  Seth. 

Then  they  turned  pale,  and  got  up 
and  left  the  room. 

THE   END. 

There  may  be  a  moral  concealed  in 
this  romance,  Bunch;  I'm  not  so  sure 
about  it  myself. 

If  you're  ever  here  in  Albany,  you 
might  mingle  with  some  of  the  law- 
builders  and  inquire. 

But  when  you  do  inquire,  be  sure 
to  pick  out  a  law-builder  at  least  two 
sizes  smaller  than  you  are. 

Self-preservation  is  the  first  law 
of  Albany. 

Yours  all  the  while, 
J.  H. 


CHAPTER  VII 

JOHN     HENRY     ON     RAPID     TRANSIT. 

TROY.     Saturday. 

DEAR  BUNCH:  Every  time  I 
hop  into  one  of  those  roomy, 
comfortable  street-cars  in  a 
city  of  the  second,  third,  or  even 
fourth  class,  I  immediately  contrast 
it  with  the  wood  boxes  we  use  in 
New  York,  and  I  find  myself  grow- 
ing red  in  the  face  and  biting  my 
nails. 

Those  Squeezer  cars  that  prowl 
the  streets  of  New  York  are  surely 
the  breathless  limit,  aren't  they? 

The  Squeezer  car  is  the  best  gen- 
teel imitation  of  a  rough-house  that 
has  ever  been  invented. 


ON   RAPID   TRANSIT  IOI 

They  are  called  Squeezers  because 
the  conductor  has  to  let  the  passen- 
gers out  with  a  can-opener. 

Brave  and  strong  men  climb  into  a 
street-car,  and  they  are  full  of  health 
and  life  and  vigor,  but  a  few  blocks 
up  the  road  they  fall  out  backward 
and  inquire  feebly  for  a  sanitarium. 

To  ride  on  a  Broadway  street-car, 
for  instance,  about  eight  o'clock  of 
an  evening  brings  out  all  that  is  in  a 
man,  including  a  lot  of  loud  words 
he  didn't  know  he  had. 

The  last  census  shows  us  that  the 
street-cars  in  the  city  of  New  York 
have  more  ways  of  producing  nerv- 
ous prostration  and  palpitation  of  the 
brain  to  the  square  inch  than  the 
combined  population  of  Amsterdam, 
Rotterdam,  Tinkersdam,  and  Gotter- 
dammerung. 


102  GO  TO  IT! 

To  get  in  some  of  the  street-cars 
about  six  o'clock  is  a  problem,  and 
to  get  out  again  is  an  assassination. 

One  evening  I  rode  from  Forty- 
second  Street  to  Fifty-ninth  without 
once  touching  the  floor  with  my 
feet. 

Part  of  the  time  I  used  the  out- 
posts of  a  stout  gentleman  to  come 
between  me  and  the  ground,  and 
during  the  rest  of  the  occasion  I  hung 
from  a  strap  and  swung  out  wild  and 
free,  like  the  Japanese  flag  on  a 
windy  day. 

Some  of  the  New  York  street-cars 
lead  a  double  life,  because  they  are 
used  all  winter  to  act  the  part  of  a 
refrigerator. 

It  is  a  cold  day  when  we  cannot 
find  it  colder  in  the  street-cars. 


A  GERM  RUBBING  AGAINST  MY  ANKLE  LIKE  A   KITTEN. 

Page  103. 


ON   RAPID   TRANSIT  1 03 

In  Germany  we  find  Germans  in 
the  cars,  but  in  America  we  find 
germs. 

That  is  because  this  country  is 
young  and  impulsive. 

The  germs  in  the  street-cars  are  ex- 
tremely sociable,  and  will  follow  a 
stranger  all  the  way  home. 

Often  while  riding  in  the  New 
York  street-cars  I  have  felt  a  germ 
rubbing  against  my  ankle  like  a  kit- 
ten, but,  being  a  gentleman,  I  did  not 
reach  down  and  kick  it  away  because 
the  law  says  we  must  not  be  disre- 
spectful to  the  dumb  brutes  of  the 
field. 

Many  of  those  street-cars  are  built 
on  the  same  general  plan  as  a  can  of 
condensed  milk. 

The    only   difference    is    that   the 


IO4  GO  TO  IT! 

street-cars  have  a  sour  taste,  like  a 
lemon-squeezer. 

When  you  get  out  you  cannot  get 
in,  and  when  you  get  in  you  cannot 
get  out,  because  you  hate  to  disturb 
the  strange  gentleman  that  is  using 
your  knee  to  lean  over. 

Between  the  seats  there  is  a  space 
of  two  feet,  but  in  that  space  you 
will  always  find  four  feet,  and  their 
owners,  unless  one  of  them  happens 
to  have  a  wooden  leg. 

Under  ordinary  circumstances  four 
into  two  won't  go,  but  the  Squeezer 
cars  defy  the  laws  of  gravitation. 

A  Squeezer  conductor  can  put 
twenty-six  into  nine  and  still  have 
four  to  carry. 

The  ladies  of  New  York  have 
started  a  rebellion  against  the 
Squeezer  cars,  but  every  time  they 


ON  RAPID   TRANSIT  IO5 

start  it  the  conductor  pulls  the  bell, 
and  leaves  the  rebellious  standing  on 
the  corner. 

We  are  a  very  nervous  and  care- 
less people  in  New  York.  To  prove 
how  careless  we  are,  I  will  cite  the 
fact  that  Manhattan  Island  is  called 
after  a  cocktail. 

This  nervousness  is  our  undoing 
because  we  are  always  in  such  a  hur- 
ry to  get  somewhere  that  we  would 
rather  take  the  first  car  and  get 
squeezed  into  breathlessness  than  wait 
for  the  next,  which  would  likely 
squeeze  us  into  insensibility. 

Breathlessness  can  be  cured,  but 
insensibility  is  dangerous  without  an 
alarm-clock. 

For  a  man  with  a  small  dining- 
room,  the  Squeezer  car  has  its  ad- 
vantage, but  when  a  stout  man  rides 


io6  GO  TO  IT! 

in  them,  he  finds  himself  supporting 
a  lot  of  strangers  he  never  met  be- 
fore. 

One  morning  I  jumped  on  one  of 
those  Squeezers  feeling  just  like  a 
two-year-old,  full  of  health  and  hap- 
piness. 

During  the  first  seven  blocks  three 
men,  fresh  from  a  distillery,  grew  up 
in  front  of  me  and  removed  the  scen- 
ery. 

One  of  them  had  to  get  out  in  a 
hurry,  so  he  kicked  me  on  the  shins 
to  show  how  sorry  he  was  to  leave 
me. 

One  of  the  other  two  must  have 
been  in  the  distillery  a  long  time,  be- 
cause pretty  soon  he  neglected  to  use 
his  memory,  and  sat  down  in  my  lap. 

When  I  remonstrated  with  him  he 
replied  that  this  is  a  free  country,  and 


ON    RAPID   TRANSIT  1 07 

if  he  wished  to  sit  down  I  had  no 
business  to  stop  him. 

Then  his  friend  pulled  us  apart, 
and  I  resumed  the  use  of  my  lap. 

During  the  next  twenty  blocks  I 
had  one  of  the  worst  daylight  night- 
mares I  ever  rode  behind. 

The  party  who  had  been  studying 
the  exhibits  in  the  distillery  became 
obsessed  with  the  idea  that  my  foot 
was  the  loud  pedal  on  a  piano,  and 
he  started  to  play  the  waltz  from 
"The  Merry  Widow"  until  I  had 
to  yell  Savagely  to  stop  him. 
(There's  a  joke  concealed  in  that  last 
sentence. ) 

That  man  was  such  a  hard  drinker 
that  he  gave  me  the  gout  just  from 
standing  on  my  feet. 

Then  I  jumped  off  and  swore  off 
and  swore  at  and  walked  home. 


io8  GO  TO  IT! 

If  the  man  who  invented  the  idea 
of  standing  up  between  the  seats  in 
a  Squeezer  is  alive  he  should  have  a 
monument. 

My  idea  would  be  to  catch  him 
alive  and  place  the  monument  on  him, 
and  have  the  conductor  come  around 
every  ten  minutes  for  his  fare. 

Then  the  punishment  would  have 
a  fit  like  the  crime. 

And  the  Elevated  at  evensong! 

The  crashing,  crushing  crowds; 
how  they  scramble  in,  squeeze  in,  and 
splash  their  way  home ! 

The  thought  of  it  makes  me  feel 
quite  Tennysonesque : 

From  Cortland  Street  he  proudly 
strode  at  supper-time  that  day  to  take 
the  Elevated  Road  which  goes  up 
Harlem  way.  He  shook  and  shivered 


ON    RAPID   TRANSIT  1 09 

like  the  deuce,  and  then  he  sadly 
sighed,  because  the  path  was  long  and 
loose  which  led  to  Morningside. 

He  kissed  the  down-town  girl  he 
rushed,  and  said :  "  I  know  you'll 
miss  me!  but  don't  start  weeping  if 
I'm  crushed;  just  kiss  me,  sweet- 
heart; kiss  me!  "Pis  miles  to  go, 
long  miles  to  go  to  where  I  do  re- 
side, and  boogie  men  are  in  the  cars 
that  run  to  Morningside !  " 

Her  eyes  were  like  two  stars  that 
shine  and  sparkle  through  the  rain; 
she  sobbed :  "  Good-by,  sweetheart 
of  mine !  " — he  kissed  his  love  again. 
"  And  should  I  not  return  some  day 
to  claim  my  blushing  bride,  you'll 
find  me  on  the  right  of  way  twixt 
here  and  Morningside !  " 

"  Oh,  Phyllis,  I  must  pull  up  stakes 


no  GO  TO  IT! 

this  awful  trip  to  make — hark!  do 
you  hear  the  broken  brakes  refuse  to 
make  a  brake?  Good-by,  my  love; 
good-by,  my  dove!  on  this  I  do  de- 
cide; when  air-ships  come  in  use  I'll 
take  you  up  to  Morningside." 

He  found  a  car  well  loaded  down 
with  fifty  souls  or  more  to  take  the 
pathway  through  the  town  he'd  taken 
oft  before.  The  Guard  unto  his 
Voice  gave  vent :  "  Oof  tgooften- 
ooftenvide ! "  then  closed  the  gates 
and  off  they  went,  bound  out  for 
Morningside. 

They  stopped  at  stations  one  by 
one  and  took  on  eighty-four,  and  then 
as  soon  as  that  was  done  they  took  on 
ninety  more.  The  people  heard  the 
supper-bells,  and  all  were  horrified 
to  think  that  they  were  not  within  the 
flat  at  Morningside. 


ON    RAPID   TRANSIT  III 

Fat  men  sat  down  in  ladies'  laps 
they'd  never  met  before ;  and  sad  and 
solemn-looking  chaps  exploded  some 
and  swore.  Some  used  the  air  to 
stand  upon,  the  floor  was  occupied 
by  twenty-seven  thousand  feet  bound 
out  for  Morningside. 

"  I  want  my  hat !  "  a  small  man 
cried  in  accents  full  of  heat;  and 
when  to  reach  for  it  he  tried,  some- 
body swiped  his  seat.  Ten  thou- 
sand souls  hung  onto  straps  and  did 
the  slide-the-slide ;  the  human  laun- 
dry which  at  night  hangs  out  for 
Morningside. 

Beneath  the  car  the  Third  Rail 
snaps  and  barks  and  tries  to  bite 
while  those  who  hang  around  on 
straps  turn  over  then  turn  white.  It 
sighs  for  those  and  cries  for  those 
who  in  the  coaches  ride,  and  makes 


112  GO  TO  IT! 

them  wish  they  did  not  live  far  out 
at  Morningside. 

Where  does  the  fat  Director  ride 
who  owns  the  iron  road?  With  hu- 
man sardines  does  he  hide  while 
homeward  he  is  towed  ?  Not  on  your 
life!  a  squeeze  like  that  would  surely 
hurt  his  pride;  he  takes  the  benzine 
buggy  when  he  goes  to  Morningside. 

The  cars  will  crowded  be  to-night ; 
there'll  be  another  crush;  for  hunger 
waits  on  appetite  and  all  must  home- 
ward rush,  and  stand  like  men  to  pay 
the  debt  Monopolies  provide  on  any 
road,  on  every  road — including 
Morningside ! 

How  about  it! 

P.  S. — Just  between  you  and  me, 
Bunch,  I'm  strong  for  that  little  old 
New  York  thing,  in  spite  of  the 


ON    RAPID   TRANSIT 

Squeezers.  I'd  rather  walk  on  one 
foot  in  that  town  than  have  my  smell- 
wagon  with  a  lemoneen  top  in  any 
other  burg. 

Yours  as  previously, 
J.  H. 


THE  END. 


HUGH   McHUGH'S 

TWELVE  FAMOUS  BOOKS 

Over  700,000  Copies  Sold 

"GO  TO  IT" 

"BEAT  IT" 

"SK1DDOO" 

"GET  NEXT" 

"YOU  CAN  SEARCH  ME" 

"I'M  FROM  MISSOURI" 

"I  NEED  THE  MONEY" 

"OUT  FOR  THE  COIN" 

"BACK  TO  THE  WOODS" 

"IT'S  UP  TO  YOU!" 

-DOWN  THE  LINE  WITH  JOHN  HENRY* 

"JOHN  HENRY" 

The  Twelve  Books  are  Illustrated.  Cloth  Bound 
Gilt  Top,  75  Cents  Each 

For  sale  by  all  Booksellers  or  sent  by  mall, 
POSTAGE  FREE,  on  receipt  of  price  by 

6.  W.  DIUINGHAM  CO.,  Publishers,  NEW  YORK 


JOHN  HENRY,  Hugh  McHugh's 
first  book,  reached  tbe  25,060 
mark  two  weeks  after  it  was 
published.  It's  popularity  since 
then  has  been  unprecedented. 

"  John  Henry's  philosophy  is  of  the  most 
approved  up-to-date  brand.  He  is  by  all 
odds  a  young  man  of  the  period;  he  is  a 
man  about  town.  He  is  a  slang  artist;  a 
painter  of  recherche  phrases;  a  maker  of 
tart  Americanisms. 

In  this  book— it  is  "little,  but  oh  my!"— 
John  Henry  recounts  some  of  his  adven- 
tures about  town,  and  he  interlards  his  des- 
criptive passages  with  impressive  comments 
on  the  men,  women,  institutions,  and  places, 
brought  within  his  observant  notice.  We 
need  not  say  that  his  comments  are  highly- 
colored  ;  nor  that  his  descriptions  are  r. . 
markable  for  expressiveness  and  colloquial 
piquancy.  Mr.  Henry  is  a  sort  of  refined 
and  sublimated  type  of  "Chimmie  Fadden," 
though  there  is  by  no  means  anything  of  the 
gamin  about  him.  He  doesn't  speak  in  rich 
coster  dialect  such  as  is  used  by  Mr.  Town- 
song's  famous  character,  nor  is  he  a  mem- 

1 


ber  of  the  same  social  set  as  the  popular 
hero  of  the  New  York  slums.  Mr.  Henry 
moves  on  a  higher  plane,  he  uses  good 
English — mostly  in  tart  superlatives — and 
his  associates  are  of  a  high  social  scale. 

Mr.  Henry's  adventures  as  he  describes 
them  here  will  make  you  wonder  and  make 
you  laugh. 

His  book  abounds  in  bon-mots  of  slang; 
of  the  kind  you  hear  in  the  theatres  when 
the  end-men,  comedians  and  monologuists 
are  at  their  wittiest  and  best,  when  they 
revel  in  mad  and  merry  extravagances  of 
speech  and  experience. 

It  is  an  art  to  use  street-talk  with  force 
and  terseness,  and  although  it  isn't  the  most 
elegant  phase  of  the  Queen's  English  it 
nevertheless  impresses  to  the  Queen's  taste, 
Hugh  McHugh  has  this  art." — Philadelphia 
Item. 

"  John  Henry  "  is  only  one  of  the  numer- 
ous young  men  who  are  treating  the  public 
to  the  latest  slang  through  the  medium  of 
print  nowadays,  but  he,  unlike  most  of  the 
others,  is  original  in  his  phrases,  has  the 
strong  support  of  the  unexpected  in  his  hu- 
mor and  causes  many  a  good  laugh.  For 
one  thing,  he  merely  tries  to  make  fun, 
wisely  avoiding  the  dangers  of  tediousness 
ii' 


in  endeavoring  to  utter  immature  wisdom  to 
the  language  of  the  brainless. 

"  The  author,  Hugh  McHugh,  is  thought 
to  be  Mr.  George  V.  Hobart.  Certain  it  is 
that  the  writer  is  a  Baltimorean,  past  or 
present;  the  local  references  evidence  that 
In  some  places  the  expressions  have  the 
Hobart  ring  to  them.  But  if  Mr.  Hobart 
did  write  the  stories,  he  has  done  his  best 
work  of  the  kind  yet." — Baltimore  Herald. 

"  The  humor  is  of  the  spontaiteous  sort 
that  runs  close  to  truth,  and  it  affords  many 
a  hearty  laugh." — Cleveland  World. 

"As  a  study  in  slang  it  surpasses  any- 
thing since  the  days  of  '  Artie.'"— The 
Rocky  Mountain  News. 

"  Written  in  the  choicest  slang."— Detroit 
Free  Press. 

"John  Henry."  A  regular  side-splitter, 
and  as  good  as  "  Billy  Baxter." — New  York 
Press. 

"  It  is  as  good  as  any  of  the  books  of  its 
kind,  better  than  most  of  them,  and  is 
funny  without  being  coarse." — Portage 
Register. 

iii 


••I'm  from  Missouri "  fully 
kept  up  the  reputation  of 
the  John  Henry  books. 
From  the  day  it  was  pub- 
lished, for  six  months  fol- 
lowing, there  was  no  let- 
up in  the  popular  demand 
for  it. 


CONTENTS   OF 
"I'M    FROM    MISSOURI." 

JOHN  HENRY  MAKES  A  CHOICE. 
JOHN   HENRY   MAKES  A   STATEMENT. 
JOHN  HENEY  MAKES  A  SPEECH. 
JOHN  HENRY  MAKES  A  COMPACT. 
JOHN  HENRY  MAKES  A  NOTE. 
JOHN  HENRY  MAKES  A  HOLIDAY. 
JOHN  HENRY  MAKES  A  MAYOR. 

ii 


"John  Henry  in  the  role  of  campaign 
manager  as  he  appears  in  'I'm  from  Mis- 
souri/ is  the  same  breezy,  unconventional, 
amusing  personage  we  have  known  in  years 
past.  He  always  keeps  abreast  of  the  times, 
in  the  very  van,  in  truth.  His  language  is 
up  to  date,  he  gathers  no  moss,  he  is  al- 
ways doing  and  saying  the  unexpected,  and 
somehow  he  always  manages  to  win  out. 
The  book  is  full  of  fun  and  cannot  fail  to 
make  many  new  friends  for  the  inimitable 
John  Henry  and  his  wife,  Clara  J.,  or 
Peaches." — Newark  Evening  News. 

"A  quantity  of  choice  and  original  slang 
is  poured  forth  in  a  bewildering  stream  in 
this,  the  seventh,  volume  of  'John  Henry,' 
whose  author  bids  fair  to  rival  she  of  the 
'  Elsie '  books  in  his  penchant  for  clinging 
to  one  character.  The  description  of  the 
hero's  trials  with  the  various  cooks  and  the 
burlesque  directions  for  running  an  auto- 
mobile are  mildly  amusing.  Here  is  a  sam- 
ple :  '  I  gave  him  his  final  instructions. 
Now,  Uncle  Peter,  I  said,  grab  that  wheel 
in  front  of  you  firmly  with  both  hands  and 
put  one  foot  on  the  accelerator.  Now,  put 
the  other  foot  on  the  rheostat  and  let  the 
left  elbow  gently  rest  on  the  deodizer.  Keep 
the  rubber  tube  connecting  with  the  auto- 
iii 


What  the  Critics  Say. 

The  author  of  "  I  Need  the  Money,"  the  new 
"  John  Henry  "  book,  who  is  George  V.  Hobart, 
a  former  Baltimore  newspaper  man,  is,  beyond 
doubt,  one  of  the  most  popular  of  modern  slang 
humorists;  more  so,  probably,  than  Ade,  and 
with  his  "  Dinkelspiel  "  stuff  almost  as  much  as 
Dunne. — Brooklyn  Eagle. 

George  V.  Hobart,  the  New  York  journalist, 
is  a  versatile  humorist.  As '  'Dinkelspiel"  he  is  an 
irresistibly  funny  German,  full  of  philosophy  but 
hopelessly  tangled  in  his  rhetoric.  As  the  author 
"  John  Henry"  and  other  humorous  productions 
he  has  been  an  acute  man  of  the  street  and  of 
the  rapid  avenues  of  life  with  all  the  up-to- 
dateness  of  slang  that  is  one  of  the  chief  con- 
comitants of  such  worldly  wisdom.  Mr.  Hobart 
therefore  has  strings  enough  to  his  bow  to 
warrant  the  prediction  that  he  will  wear  much 
longer  than  the  average  funny  man  has  lasted 
under  the  strain  of  humor  to  order.  The  G.  W. 
Dillingham  Company  has  just  issued  a  volume  of 
"  Eppy  Grams  by  Dinkelspiel "  that  is  full  of 
laugh  from  cover  to  cover,  and  another  ' '  John 
Henry"  book,  entitled  "  I  Need  the  Money,"  in 
which  readers  can  find  delight  in  Mr.  Hobart's 
humor  in  the  other  vein.  The  pages  of  the 
"  Dinkelspiel "  book  are  brightened  with  borders 
of  red,  and  the  other  book  is  illustrated. 

— Milwaukee  Wisconsin. 
3 


Down  The  Line  With  John  Henry" 
BS  the  second  of  the  "John  Henry"' 
books  and  quickly  followed  its  pre 
decessor  along  the  highroad  ol 
success. 

The  story  of  "John  Henry  at  the 
Races  "  in  "  Down  The  Line  "  has 
already  grown  to  be  a  Classic  in 

Slang.  It  is  brimful  of  human 
nature  and  is  amusing  in  the  high- 
est degree. 


CONTENTS  OF  "DOWN  TH» 
LINK" 

JOHN  HENRY  AT  THE  RACES, 

JOHN  HENRY  AND  THE  DRUMMERS. 

JOHN  HENRY  IN  BOHEMIA. 

JOHN  HENRY  AND  THE  HOTEL  CLERK. 

*>HN  HENRY  AND  THE  BENZINE  BUGfi?,. 

JOHN  HENRY  AT  THE  MUSICALS. 

JOHN  HBNRY  PLAYS  GOLF. 


'"Down  the  Line*  is  one  good  laugh  from 
cover  to  cover,  and  some  of  the  experiences  of 
this  clever  man  are  both  amusing  and  interest- 
ing. The  book  is  illustrated  with  some  clever 
sketches  by  McKee  Barclay." — St.  Louis  Star, 


"  As  in  the  former  volume,  the  present  col- 
lection of  stories  is  concerned  with  adventures  of 
a  man  about  town.  It  abounds  in  the  weirdest 
and  newest  slang,  recherche"  expressions  and  tart 
Americanisms.  There  is  much  clever  satire  on 
the  manners  and  habits  of  Americans.  The 
'down-to-date'  man  who  is  fond  of  slang  will 
find  in  the  volume  a  new  supply  for  his  vocab- 
ulary."—Los  Angeles  Express, 


"In  order  to  enjoy  it  you  have  got  to  tackle 
it  like  Wagner  and  chain  yourself  down  for  three 
or  four  sittings,  and  then  you  are  en  rapport,  so 
to  speak.  Come  again,  Jonathanl" — Denver 
Republican. 

V 


"  It's  Up  to  You  I"  is  the  third  book 
in  the  John  Henry  series.  This 
story  of  domestic  bliss  relates 
the  adventures  of  John  Henry  dur- 
ing his  courtship  and  marriage. 

"  It's  Up  to  You ! "  has  been  pro- 
nounced by  critics  everywhere 
the  funniest  book  of  the  year. 

II  is  no  exaggeration  to  say  there 
is  a  laugh  in  every  line  for  this 
fact  is  amply  demonstrated  by  the 
enormous  demand  for  the  book. 

CONTENTS  OF  "IT'S  UP  T(> 
YOU  I" 

JOHN  HENRY'S  COURTSHIP. 
JOHN  HENRY'S  WEDDING. 
JOHN  HENRY'S  HONEYMOON  TRIP. 
JOHN  HENRY'S  SEASHORE  VISIT. 
JOHN  HENRY  HUNTS  A  FLAT. 
JOHN  HENRY  ENTERTAINS  FRIENDS 
JOHN  HENRY  PLAYS  PING  PO*TG. 

vi 


"  •  It's  Up  to  You '  stares  out  from  the 
yellow  cover.  From  a  mere  passing  sight 
at  the  familiar  cheese-cloth  binding  and  the 
portrait  of  the  faultless  gentleman  in  the 
choker,  one  might  easily  think  it  was  an 
old  wandering  copy  of  the  original  'John 
Henry ' ;  one  hardly  dares  hope  it  is  a  new 
edition  of  that  worthy's  confidence.  But 
it  is.  And  John  Henry  stabs  us  with  his 
sentiment  He  commences  :  '  Seven  of  us 
were  entered  in  the  race  for  Clara  J.'s 
affections.'  Then  he  delightfully  tells  us 
how  he  won  out  from  the  '  other  six  society 
shines. '  The  chapter  explaining  his  method 
of  dragging  papa's  and  mama's  consent 
away  from  them  is  clogged  with  many 
smiles,  and  before  the  finish  of  the  honey- 
moon trip,  the  « holler '  is  certainly  '  Up  to 
You ! '  After  a  bit  John  Henry  hunts  a  lat. 
The  finding  of  the  flat  is  the  richest  slice 
of  the  book.  He  does  more — he  lives  in 
it — with  the  consent  of  the  folks  above  and 
below;  he  entertains  and  concludes  the 
third  little  volume  of  his  spicy  adventures 
with  a  game  of  ping-pong.  Now,  never 
mind — All  men  make  mistakes. 

"We  have  not  heard  near  so  much  about 
John  Henry  as  we  have  of  ping-pong;  we 
to  learn  more  of  the  former, 

vii 


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